


Token

by babyredpanda



Category: Frostiron - Fandom, IronFrost - Fandom, King Thor - Fandom, Prince Tony - Fandom, Slave!Loki AU, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 75,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyredpanda/pseuds/babyredpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Thor of Asgard offers Prince Anthony of Midgard - well, not really "of Midgard", but these Asgardians know nothing - a very special gift as a token of friendship and peace. But friendship and peace are far from being what Loki, who has been used as a pleasure slave for decades, has in mind. In the plotting world of political relations, he will patiently play his part and take every single opportunity to rise from token to master of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Horns of Mischief (Rinelin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinelin/gifts).



_Author's note: This story is based on[one of Horns of Mischief's lovely artworks](https://56.media.tumblr.com/5e22a547690959ac1acd69fd1c6be410/tumblr_o0jjb4WDAu1rxjuizo1_1280.jpg) (goody good **NSFW** :3)._

* * *

 

“A present to the Prince of Midgard ? Why ? And would it not be slightly inappropriate, this shortly after his father’s death ?”  
King Thor of Asgard, hands crossed behind his back, briefly interrupted his evening walk through the palace hallways. At his side, his First Counsellor, Fälinn, patiently shook his head.  
“On the contrary, my King. When in moral pain, Midgardians very often try to find comfort in material possessions – most of the time fairly useless ones, too. Besides, it would be more of a token of friendship for the future King than a consolation prize for the grieving son. As for why… Our relations with Earth have been far too distant, for the past decades, and-”  
“Midgard has never been a world of significant importance, Counsellor. Just because Howard of House Stark passed away is not reason enough for me to suddenly care about his realm.”  
“No, Your Highness. But the very near coronation of his son, Anthony of House Stark, Prince and Heir to the Throne of Midgard, is.”  
Thor stopped in front of his harem entrance. He frowned, his fingers already on the doorknob.  
“By the Norns, why so solemn ? What makes you think this man is any different from his predecessors ?”  
“Our spies are unanimous, my King: the Prince is a genius, a creative mind and a great lover of spectacular explosions. Slightly primitive, you might say, but primitive geniuses are by far the most dangerous, especially when their favorite pastime involves creating new ways of destruction every single day.”  
“I now see your point, Counsellor, but Asgard is entirely out of his reach, is it not ?”  
“There lays my greatest fear, Your Highness. He is apparently set to build a way for Midgardians to travel though the Realms.”  
“WHAT?”  
“I am glad you share my concern, Your Majesty.”  
“It is no time for your doubtful sense of humor”, Thor grunted. “Midgardians have never been worthy of the priviledge of travelling the branches of Yggdrasil ! It is about time they remember who they are and where they are supposed to stand.”  
“It would not be wise, my King.”  
“What did you say ?” the monarch hissed.  
“Midgardians have evolved”, Fälinn calmly observed. “Our careless gaze upon them made us blind to their potential – the potential given to them by their future King, at least – for too long. They now have the possibility of becoming dangerous enemies, but also powerful allies. It is my duty to help you take enlightened decisions, my King. A friendly bond with the Prince of Midgard would guarantee us his loyalty and his help, in the event of a war against more troublesome realms. A diplomatic incident, on the other hand, could lead to catastrophic consquequences. I have leafed through many historical records; House Stark is known for breeding very proud and very easily offended spirits.”  
“So, you want me to give a proud, mad, destruction-loving and weapon-making Prince a present, in order to weave with him a friendship than none of us will genuinely care for ?” Thor summarised.  
“Your father once said politics were to genuineness what adulthood was to childhood”, Fälinn serenely quoted.  
Thor lowered his gaze and bit his inner lip. He knew far too well why his advisor had chosen one of his father’s sayings to convince him. Never had he not capitulated, when confronted to his own – respectful and intimidated – memories of Odin’s remarkable reign. A reign he was cautiously repeating, under the careful eye of his preceptors – now his counsellors. _Unfortunately_ , he had inherited fragments of his mother’s _very regrettable softness and concern for others_ , which kept on ruining his efforts to _become_ The Great Odin. Luckily, he was well surrounded, and this persistent flaw soon would disappear. Luckily, yes, they said. _They_.  
_They_ had made him a shadow, the pale reincarnation of his glorified spawner. Oh, he was acclaimed, when he marched through Asgard, with his golden armor, golden hair and golden tales of grand battles, casting his light on the people – the people loved him, but it was not him they loved. Did it keep him awake at night ? It did. Was he willing to break out of his factitious skin, put an end to the mascarade that led his existence – his non-existence ? No. He was a coward.  
And they all knew.  
“What kind of present should I offer him ?” he yielded.  
Counsellor Fälinn smiled in content.  
“It is quite easy, Your Highness. The Prince nourishes two passions.”  
“Two ? I thought he only loved weapons and explosions.”  
“Fortunately for us, there is one more thing he truly cares for.”  
“Which is ?”  
“Lust.”  
He furtively glanced at the door. Thor raised an eyebrow.  
“You want me to send him a slave”, he deduced, slightly taken aback.  
“I am strongly advising you to send him _the best_. He loves pleasure, he loves weapons. Make him find contentment in the first area and he will very probably make you find satisfaction in the second. He will be your ally.”  
The elderly man looked directly into his King’s eyes, silently stating that they both knew exactly who was to be sent. Thor’s lips faintly parted before he jolted his head in utter refusal.  
“I am _not_ giving him Loki!“  
“Loki has been at your service for decades, now”, Fälinn argued, imperturbable. “He has received the most efficient training. He has survived mutliple murder attempts – and the Norns know he will probably have to survive more in the Midgardian court. He is the strongest, most obedient and most skilled slave you ever possessed.”  
“And this is why I want to keep him!”  
“And this is why the gift will be doubly appreciated! Your generosity and abnegation will considerably increase your chances of obtaining the Prince’s loyalty. Please, my King. I beg you to at least reconsider.”  
Thor clenched his hands into tight fists. He took a dark look through the stained-glass window that covered a small portion of the door. Colorful shadows of tender flesh and flowing fabrics innocently performed for him a deliciously indecent ballet. Between the shadows, a light. Slender white body covered in the golden chains of priviledged slavery.  
“When do I have to give him up?” he finally asked in a growl.  
“The sooner the better, Your Majesty.”  
“Allow me one more night.”

***

In the panting aftermath of their last encounter, Thor casted a regretful look upon his faithful servant. His strong hands possessively caressed the discreet curves of his thin hips and thighs, as his eyes seeked his gaze.  
“I will sincerely miss you, Loki”, he confessed. “You have given me pleasure I could not even have imagined.”  
“I only fulfilled my duty”, the slave answered, after a few seconds of tense silence.  
Thor sighed in relief.  
“I feared my decision had offended you”, he whispered, mouth buried in the warm hollow of Loki’s shoulder, between two locks of his perfumed, dark hair.  
“Why would Your Majesty care for Your Majesty’s slave’s feelings?” the younger man murmured in a furtive smile, while he slowly rose from the royal bed.  
“Well I- Where are you going?”  
“I believe we are leaving at dawn”, Loki replied, eyes lowered, as he closed his fingers around a thin piece of diaphanous, green silk, which purpose was to poorly cover strategic parts of his appealing anatomy. “I must gather all the gifts Your Majesty gave me and hand them back to Your Majesty.”  
“They are all yours. Clothes and jewelry. Take them with you”, Thor ordered, shifting towards him to lay a kiss on his lips.  
“Thank you, Master.”  
“I have told you before: you may call me by my name.”  
“I shall not, Your Highness.”  
“Even now?” the King sighed.  
“Even now.”  
“Well… I will see you tomorrow morning, then. Loki?”  
“Your Majesty?” the slave politely responded, already on the doorstep, set to leave.  
“Will you remember me?”  
“Of course, my King”, Loki smiled.  
He gracefully bowed and stepped back without turning around, keeping his gaze respectfully low until he finally was out of sight. Then, and only then, he frantically wiped his lips with the back of his hand, before furiously spitting on the floor.  
“Of course”, he repeated in a low voice, his eyes filled with hellish hatred and his smile growing dangerously wild.


	2. Breakfast Talk

 

“A present from the King of Asgard to the Prince of Midgard”, Tony repeated while glancing to his Prime Minister. “Well that's bizarre on more than one level... Duchess Virginia, remind me when was the last time Earth got the oh-so-very-precious attention of Asgard ?”

The summoned magistrate drew a fine smile, as she elegantly steadied a fragile vase on the breakfast table she shared with the future King.

“I believe it goes back to a few decades. Fifty years, sixty, maybe ?” she answered, her eyes gazing upon the thick document she had placed next to her plate.

“And remind me how many times we've made it clear in our extraterrestrial communiqués that Earth was not one big, united kindgom, and that, therefore, there was, for instance, no such thing as a 'Prince of Midgard' ?”

“We've never really stopped trying to make it clear, I'm afraid. I've always referred to you as the Prince of the New State of York, but they simply don't assimilate the fact that Midgardians are incapable of _all_ standing together below the same flag.”

“Incredible. Supposedly the most advanced specie in the Universe, and they're utterly unable to conceive a political structure that differs, even the slightest, from theirs.”

“Well, they've always been very self-centered. Though it _is_ flattering for you to be considered the most powerful man on Earth, isn't it?”

“It's no flattery, it's the truth.”

“Which is certainly why you are to them the equivalent of a universal ruler.”

“Still: they really don't live up to their reputation. I'm disappointed. That being established: why would they want to flatter me, why would they want to give me a present and, mostly, why now ?”

“They haven't been very precise on the matter”, the Duchess sighed, before discreetly taking a sip of coffee. “From what I gathered, they want to salute the advent of a new King, while re-engaging with us, after, I quote, 'so many years of unfortunate distance'.”

“And what do you think of this somewhat standard justification?”

“I must admit I'm more concerned with the gift himself”, the Minister whispered, a wince of preoccupation briefly distorting her delicate features.

“ _Him_ self?” the heir to the throne asked, raising an eyebrow.

Duchess Virginia lifted up a hesitant eye towards her Prince and friend. She slowly nodded, a hint of disapproval shining through her habitually impartial visage, as she nervously played with her spoon.

“They wish to offer you a pleasure slave”, she quickly reported, jaw and fingers clenching.

Tony remained silent for five endless seconds, his lids fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” he finally cursed.

“Your Majesty!”

“No, but really! Of all things they could bring from their stupid golden kingdom... Wait. Are they already here?”

“Not yet, but they are to arrive in the afternoon, if I must believe their message. The King himself will be there.”

“Oh, great, so you're gonna tell me I simply can't refuse!”

“I disapprove of this as much as you do, if not more, but-”

“What do you mean, if not more?” Tony frowned, dangerously leaning forward.

“We'll discuss this later, if you don't mind, my Prince”, the Duchess diplomatically eluded. “There is more urgent matter. Thor of Asgard probably believes this slave is the most precious possession he could cede you. Your reputation being what it is...”

“Yes”, the future monarch interrupted with irritation, “my reputation grants me hundreds of lovers, mistresses, mignons, partners, companions... Not _concubines_! Not _anymore_!”

“I _know_. But in the Royal Court of Asgard, all of the King's lovers are slaves – and it will remain so until the day he choses a Queen. We've aknowledged his egocentrism before. Is it so surprising that he believed your partners would be slaves too ?”

“Just because his choice is logical doesn't mean I ought to approve it! It is no childish whim of mine to exclude all my lovers from this palace! You know far well what happens when someone shares the princely bed! How many dead bodies have I found in my chambers in the past, Duchess? _How many_? Slit throat, strangled, poisoned! Concubines are muses to the plotting, jealous and murderous minds, period – and it will only get worse now that I am to be crowned. If this slave is meant to stay by my side, which he certainly is, he will be dead before twilight, tomorrow.”

“I never thought you cared this much for your slaves' life”, the Minister calmly observed, her pale irises turning colder.

“It's not the same”, the Prince muttered after a moment of guilty silence. “The slaves I use in the mines will be liberated as soon as the machine is operational. Besides, they deserved what happened to them.”

“I never pretended otherwise, but my point remains unchanged: why did your concubines' death affect you so much?”

“Are you asking me to justify myself, Duchess?” Tony sharply questioned.

“I am, Majesty”, she confirmed without a blink.

“Very well”, he growled, his spine straightening up against the backrest, his eyes placidly meeting hers. “Their passing affected me because my eyes met their cold, unexpressive, dead gaze, because I ran my fingers upon their lids to close them for all of eternity. Death affects me when it's close to me. It's sordid and it takes away my appetite.”

The magistrate let out an incredulous, nervous laugh.

“In shorter words”, she synthetized, “you're thinking about refusing a token of friendship from the mightiest realm of Yggdrasil just because tomorrow's menu includes chocolate pudding.”

“If you weren't my best and only friend, I could have you killed for making me sound like such a fool, you know?” Tony purred in a forced smile.

“I'm sure you've dreamed about it more than once”, she retorted.

“I did”, he admitted with an exaggeratedly dramatic nod. “Are you gonna hand me the list of all the reasons why this makes me even more of an imbecile?” he hesitantly added.

“No”, she finally answered in a softer voice. “But only because we don't have the time.”

They shared a tired smile.

“I must accept the slave, mustn't I?” Tony then sighed.

“I can't express enough my reluctance to this idea, but... We can't spit on Thor's friendship. He could be a very useful ally. He could even help you build your travelling machine.”

“I really don't believe he's smart enough for this, but I guess I could ask him for the advice of his personal experts, yes...”

“And maybe this slave will survive, after all...”

“That I highly doubt.”

“No matter what the odds are, we'll have to try and keep him alive as long as possible. He is a token of peace; his death would be both horribly ironic and potentially catastrophic.”

“What a rejoicing perspective”, the Prince grunted. “I'm also guessing they'll be very keen on mesuring my level of satisfaction with him?”

“They'll probably leave a few spies in the palace for a couple of days, yes. Otherwise, I would've asked you to avoid... Using him”, she whispered with visible disgust.

“That I couldn't have promised. Especially if he's attractive”, Tony confessed in a pout.

“They've sent a painting”, she murmured in resignation, her right hand releasing the carefully rolled artwork from the upper folds of her gown. “His name is Loki.”

Tony curiously wrapped his fingers around the greased fabric. He unfastened the thin gold ribbon and slowly unrolled the colorful portrait.

Laying on the shining reds of a curvy sofa, surrounded in round, plumpy cushions, the one called Loki gazed at him with the most subtle of smiles. His emerald eyes partly hidden behind a crimson veil of tulle, his porcelain skin slightly reflecting daylight and the pure lines of his delicate musculature heightened with golden, refined jewelry, he looked shockingly self-confident – for a stark naked slave. Tony's eyes progressively lowered to the very center of his future concubine's anatomy. There was indeed nothing to be ashamed of, he thought to himself with a smile.

“That I definitely couldn't have promised”, he whispered.

 


	3. Blood Bound

Loki had overheard many tales about Midgard, since he had arrived in Asgard. Decades later, he sincerely believed he knew everything there was to know about his new "home". Eternal, deep blue seas, at the heart of which small islands named continents had blossomed through the millenias; perpetually changing skies, painted in sapphire during the day, red, purple and orange at dusk, dark and starry at night. And then there were those billions of ridiculously ephemeral creatures called Humans – Midgardians –, running towards their own fatality with this visceral fear of leaving before having accomplished all there was to accomplish.

He thought he knew all about the philosophers, the warriors, the inventors – laughable, all of them. He had this very clear image of an eternally nascent world, prisoner of its own racy cycle of life and death, change and tradition, ruled by weak creatures who were too insignificant to write meaningful progress onto the minuscule fragment of a page History had granted them.

A beautiful setting, ruined by the lack of remarkable actors.

That was his opinion on Earth and Earthlings. He had never thought he would be given the opportunity to validate it – or not.

And yet here he was, walking down the Bifrost, wrapped in a velvet cloak, escorted by Thor, Fälinn and a few guards, about to leave The Eternal Realm forever.

He was pensive.

Deducing from the few instructions the First Counsellor had given him – always wear your most appealing apparel for _him_ , do not speak unless you are asked to, and if you are asked to, only say what _he_ wants to hear, please _him_ in all the ways you know, ect. –, the Prince of Midgard was, for a highly mysterious reason, significant enough for Thor to care about his relations with him.

Of course, Thor and his advisors were barbaric imbeciles, and their desire to befriend the Prince probably meant the said Prince was another barbaric imbecile, but this sudden royal interest towards Earth was surprising enough for Loki to show a minimum of curiosity for this Anthony of House Stark.

 _Because who knew_?

***

 

He had forgotten how unpleasantly dizzy travelling via the Bifrost made him. He knew he had only experienced it once, decades ago, and he also knew _they_ had been very keen on making him forget as much as they could about his "tumultuous arrival". He had no clear memory. Only feelings.

Thor glanced at him. His large hand applied a strong pressure on the arch of his back, making him stumble for a second. Confused, his sight still blurred and his balance still on the run, he looked around while mechanically trying to stand and walk as straight as possible. Towards what or who was he walking, he did not know just yet. He blinked about a dozen times before being able to correctly observe his surroundings.

The Bifrost had taken them in front of a vertiginous tower, that looked nothing like a castle to him, though it displayed obvious signs of luxury. The marble stairs they were now solemnly climbing resonated with distressing sounds and voices, that progressively got louder and louder as his troubled senses went back to being fully functional. Strange means of transport, strange lights – green, red, orange, blue – hanging in the air, strange people caged in iron exoskeletons, running through the streets at insane speeds, sometimes bouncing over a vessel, or two, or three. And the smells. Where were the musk of the earth and the wind from the sea?

He could only feel the oppressive fragrance of way too many men and women living and moving and thinking all at the same time, all at the same place. He could even see the grey clouds of their excesses, floating up above, blending with trails of darker smog that emerged from the other side of what looked like a moutain, far from the citadel, where shiny, noisy vehicles endlessly rushed to.

_Where was he?_

 

“King Thor”, a soft, peaceful voice saluted from the top of the stairs, briefly distracting Loki from his bewildering discoveries. “Welcome to the New State of York. I am Duchess Virginia of House Seasons, his Majesty's Prime Minister. Please do come in, the Prince will receive you soon.”

Thor smiled, visibly as confused as he was, and more than happy to find a decent representative of the Midgardian Court. They reached a strange set of doors, that spontaneously opened in front of them. In the vast hall that appeared before their eyes, Loki discovered a somewhat familiar scene. Small groups of whispering silhouettes silently turned towards them, and the feeling of their cold, inquisitive gaze running on his – thankfully still covered – body sent a shiver of disgust down his spine, as he lowered his eyes.

They crossed the neverending room, guided by the diplomatic smile of the Duchess, who remained silent until they reached another set of living doors. The Asgardians took a suspicious look inside what the Minister called an elevator.

The reasonably spacious rectangular prism turned out to be another strange way of transport, mainly meant to carry the tower's residents from one floor to the other. Another dizziness inducer, Loki inwardly cursed.

When they finally reached the Throne Room, where the future King awaited them, he was already exhausted, and disgusted with anything related, even the slightest, to the Prince, his repulsive realm and his idiotic inventions.

He nevertheless kept on displaying the most neutral of faces, as Thor saluted Anthony of House Stark with excessive obsequiousness.

“I am pleased to finally meet you, Prince Anthony”, he declared while lightly bowing, closing his right hand into a noble fist and leading it to his heart.

“Same here, King Thor”, the Midgardian casually answered with a smile, raising from his princely seat to rejoin the Asgardian delegation.

Loki shortly raised an eyebrow. For the first time since their arrival, he was pleasantly surprised.

 

“Impressive, this Bifrost of yours”, the Prince continued, after a brief gaze to the Duchess, who had taken place behind him, her slender hands crossed onto her stomach.

“Certainly not as impressive as will be the ship you are currently creating”, Thor complimented.

“Oh, so you've heard about that”, Stark smiled. “I'm flattered – though it's not really a ship.”

Loki, his face partially hidden behind the dark sea of his hair, barely managed to keep his smile to himself. Fälinn, standing a few steps behind his King and a few meters in front of Loki, was visibly getting impatient – and probably worried that Thor's blatant ignorance of all things associated with the Prince's inventions might ruin all his efforts to capture the Midgardian into his strategical web. He stepped forward, deeply bowed to both the Prince and the King, and let out this smarmy suggestion:

“Maybe Your Majesties would enjoy discussing this matter in further detail during an ulterior visit from the Prince to the Asgardian Court? His Princely Highness could then, for instance, discover the humble treasures of the Royal Library.”

Loki saw Thor's jaw almost imperceptibly clenching, as he casted a humiliated look upon his advisor, clearly feeling he had committed a mistake. The slave quite enjoyed these little moments of subtle justice. They always plunged him into a short but blissful state of incredible satisfaction.

“Well”, the King finally replied, as calmly as possible, “it seems to me like an excellent idea. Prince Anthony, would you be my guest?”

“You're too generous”, Tony protested, raising his hands. “You already got me one present. And what a present...”

Loki tensed. The resting time was over. He could not pretend to be invisible anymore.

“I am glad you were pleased with the potrait we have sent you, Prince Anthony”, the Asgardian King murmured. “I hope you will be equally pleased with the model himself.”

 

Loki arduously swallowed and carefully lifted his gaze to furtively meet his new Master's. For an infinitesimal moment, the Prince seemed hesitant. Then he held out an open hand, mutely asking him to approach.

Fälinn gave him a cold, insistent look. Thor clenched his jaw – again. The Prime Minister nervously played with the pleats of her gown.

He glanced at her for a second too long, and a guard pushed him forward without any sort of consideration. He looked at his feet again, painfully biting his tongue as he walked towards the Prince.

Two meters away from him, he stopped. His eyes still low, he slowly undid the fine laces of his cloak, ultimately allowing the heavy fabric to slide on the ground in a light swish.

He felt the glance of his new owner running down his nude flesh as he would have felt the dangerous caress of the whip. He prayed the Norns for it to only be a figment of his wild imagination.

“He is of excellent company”, Thor commented from afar. “I will not disclose more; I believe it would spoil the pleasure of discovery.”

“How very attentionate of you”, the Prince replied with a hint of irony that only Loki and the Duchess seemed to perceive – the slave observed a nervous wave on the rich fabric of her dress.

Thor tilted his head forward.

“He will soon be fully yours, my friend”, he solemnly declared.

Loki shuddered in apprehension. Anthony, well noticing this unexpected reaction, slightly frowned.

“ _Soon_?” he asked, his voice clearly showing he believed Loki was already his.

“There is only one small formality remaining, Your Majesty”, Fälinn intervened, bowing again.

“A... Formality”, the Midgardian carefully repeated, casting an interrogative gaze towards his Prime Minister.

The Duchess subtly yet anxiously shook her head, as lost as the Prince was, obviously. Loki closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Before the Humans could question this “formality” any further, Thor had positioned himself behind him. Loki's eyes widened in fulgurant pain as a sharp blade chirurgically cut through the sensitive flesh of his hip. He abruptly brought his fist to his mouth, biting on it as hard as he could to restrain a scream.

A second after, Thor was handing the Prince a little, bleeding piece of skin, where the King's coats of arms had been burned, years ago, with a red-hot iron.

“His blood is now yours”, he stated.


	4. A Bold Gamble

Loki swallowed a whimper and kept his eyes closed until the burning, salty tears disappeared. He weakly lowered his arm, his knuckles bright red with the mark of his teeth. His shivering epidermis turned paler, as did Duchess Virginia's shocked, scandalized face. Stark, evidently more than taken aback, remained still while staring at the tiny circle of dead flesh.

“The Prince thanks you”, the Prime Minister finally reacted, coming next to her Prince in a laborious attempt to stay compose. “I believe he simply is surprised.”

“Indeed”, the Midgardian tried to smile. “I'd forgotten about this tradition. Wasn't expecting to see blood today. But of course, thank you.”

Thor carefully nodded, his hand still reaching out, wide open, exposing Loki's shameful fragment of skin to the sight of all, waiting for the Prince to symbolically take a hold of it. After another instant of uncomfortable hesitation, the future monarch accepted the immaculate tissue his Minister was handing him and wrapped it around the bloody offering.

“Shall I call a doctor?” the Duchess whispered, her eyes seeking Loki's, who was obstinately keeping them as low as he could, fighting against his painful shame, desperatly trying to forget his nakedness – in every single sense of the word.

“He heals very swiftly”, Fälinn immediately objected, very eager to repare what he believed to be another faux pas.

“He does”, Thor confirmed. “Look.”

He closed his fingers around Loki's arm and made him turn around. The younger man felt his new owner's eyes slide down his back, all the way to his wounded hip, which was indeed already – sorely – healing.

“I see”, the Prince murmured.

“I hope you are still happy with your gift, Friend Anthony”, Thor cautiously asked while making Loki turn over to face his Master.

“I am, don't worry”, the Human courteously answered after an awkward second of silence. “I'm already thinking about how I might thank you, actually.”

“There is no need”, the King protested in a jovial – and probably very relieved – way. “I have everything I could wish for. I am simply glad our realms reconnected after so many years of-”

“Unfortunate distance”, the Prince smirked.

“Precisely”, Thor blindly smiled. “I gather you are accepting my invitation to partake in a private visit of the Royal Library of Asgard, then ?”

“Sure. The Duchess will communicate with you to settle a date.”

“Of course”, Fälinn barged in, bowing for the umpteenth time. “We will be honored to have you walking among the archives of our modest knowledge, Your Princely Majesty.”

 

As the neverending formulas of courtesy kept on flowing from one hypocritical mouth to another, Loki stood as still, silent and inexistent as possible, mindlessly counting the dark lightnings that marbled the light-colored ground. Every once in a while, he pictured himself far from here, far from them, covered from head to toe. Being dressed; what an amazing utopia.

When, finally, the Asgardian delegation decided to deprive Earth of its glorious presence, he shared a lifeless glance with Thor, before gazing downwards again, waiting for his possessor's first command.

 

“Duchess Virginia, please leave us and make sure the guest chambers are ready to welcome our new resident”, the Prince asked. “Oh, and... Have this burned.”

He handed her the crimson tinted tissue, sending a dolorous shiver down Loki's spine.

She obeyed, her noble visage still pale as death.

And they were alone. He and his Master. He gritted his teeth.

 

The Prince slowly stepped closer, hands locked behind his back. Before Loki knew it, his Master was leaning over, grabbing the weighty cloak and holding an arm out for his slave to take it back.

“How do you feel?” he inquired.

The younger man remained silent, utterly startled.   
“I heal very swiftly”, he eventually managed to answer.

“That's what they said. How do you feel?” Prince Anthony calmly repeated, his arm still stretched out, slightly trembling under the coat's weight.

After a hesitant glance to the Midgardian, Loki hastily retrieved his only chance to cover his shameful nudity and wrapped himself in the thick mantle.

“Thank you, Master”, he prudently whispered. “I feel... Tired.”

“That's what I thought. Follow me.”

And follow him he did, through endless corridors and another hellish _elevator –_ though he was quite happy not to have been forced to use the stairs.  He wondered. Was the Prince really, actually less of a brute than his previous owner, or was he simply trying to numb his concubine's pain, only to prevent himself from feeling any sort of remorse, when his desires would arise and make him the monster he was trying to hide?

 

“I'd normally try to learn more about you”, the Prince eventually spoke, as they arrived near what seemed to be the residential zone of this most strange tower. “I'd ask you questions and everything, and it's not that I don't want to or that you're not interesting, but I have to be honest with you, I don't think there's a point to it, because I don't think you'll still be alive tomorrow.”

Loki opened two wide globes of astonishment, almost stumbling on his cloak.

Oh. Well. He had to admit; that he had not thought of.

His Master was not being genuinely nice, nor was he trying to desguise his bestial intentions. He was simply, politely giving a condemned man a final favor. The best last moments he could offer him. At least that was what the rich and comfortable rooms he was being guided into led him to conclude. The Prince was being gracious, but the Prince did not care. He did not even _want_ to care.

Loki suddenly froze.

Oh, he was not afraid. He had always survived. But he was very intrigued with the way the Human spoke about death. His careless tone looked most unnatural, for a man that the sole sight of wounded flesh seemed to disturb.

_Who was he trying to fool?_

“Of course, I'll do my best to keep you alive, I'll leave guards and everything”, the future King continued, after having stopped in the middle of a vast, red and white bedroom. “But almost no one is to be trusted here. Well, you've lived in a court before; you know how it works”, he sighed while wearily shrugging.

Loki cautiously nodded. Now he knew why he had seen no other concubine in his Master's appartments. He bit his inner lip to retain a smile. _No other_.

“I do, Your Majesty”, he simply whispered, his exhausted mind already heating up to the fire of his dark hopes. “I've survived in a court, too, if I may have the boldness to point out to Your Majesty. Maybe I will survive again”, he carefully stated, slowly lifting his eyes up.

“I do hope so”, his owner replied while raising an eyebrow. “I doubt it, but I hope so. I wasn't lying when I said I was happy with my gift, you know.”

Loki felt a cold wind blow down his back. He instinctively lowered his gaze – again – and swallowed a wild yet desperate growl. He had almost forgotten about _it_.

“My Master is flattering me”, he murmured while wearisomely walking towards the bed. “I dare suppose that, if my Master believes I will be gone tomorrow, my Master wishes to use me while he still can?”

His stomach still upside down and his hip still aching despite the now completed healing process, he quitely began to strip, unveiling the golden necklets that adorned his shoulders.

“If the circumstances had been any different... I probably would've liked us to have a more intimate encounter, yes”, the Prince admitted. “But, oddly enough, and very unfortunately, I have the overall feeling it simply wouldn't be fun”, he smirked, poorly hiding a sincere disappointment.

“Your Majesty...” Loki murmured, both surprised and relieved.

“You should put this back on before I change my mind”, the Prince slightly smiled, his chin vaguely pointing at the cloak. “I'll have your things brought here in a minute, so you can feel a bit more at ease. Then I'll send my best men to look after you, and pray for you to pass the night, I guess.”

The slave's lips parted in shock as his eyes followed the Human's steps across the room, all the way to what appeared to be an exit door. His hand on the doorknob, the Prince rose a hand, ready to bid him farewell.

A lightning of lucidity brought Loki back to his senses, as he turned around to fully meet his Master's gaze.

“Would Your Majesty be willing to bet?” he asked, praying the Norns for his intuition to be right.

The Prince frowned, visibly caught off guard.

“Bet?”

“On my survival”, Loki explained, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “Gambling was a very popular pastime, back in Asgard; I thought, maybe... Forgive my audacity, my Master, I only wished to entertain my Master the only way I still could.”

He forced himself to bow, deeply, his forehead almost touching his knees, as he anxiously waited for the Midgardian's answer.

“Stop doing that, you're gonna hurt yourself”, he finally heard as a silent sigh of mischievous relief flew through his lips. “You're a funny one, aren't you?”

“I will be if it pleases Your Majesty”, he promised, biting his inner lip to stop himself from wincing in disgust.

“You will be only if you last longer than 24 hours”, Stark objected with a defeatist pout.

“Which I bet I will.”

“Which I bet you won't.”

Loki swore the Human was smiling, behind his pretended pessimism.

“If I win – if I survive-”, he started.

“If you survive, I'll grant you a favor”, the Prince cut him off without even a moment's reflection. “Anything you'd like.”

“My Master is too generous”, the content slave whispered, hiding his sly jubilation behind a servile mask.

“Wait until you meet the assassin I'll have failed to protect you from; you won't think so highly of me then”, the Prince sighed, before taking a quick look to the clock. “I've got princely things to do, now. You should rest. Especially if you intend to fight for your life tonight- Oh, maybe you'd like a weapon or something?”

“I have everything I need, my Master”, Loki slightly smiled.

“Well then... I can only wish you good luck. Let's hope we'll meet again tomorrow.”

With these words, Anthony of House Stark tip-toed to lay a kiss on his concubine's lips, before turning around and swiftly leaving the room – he really was sensitive to the scent of aching flesh, was he not?

When he finally found himself alone, Loki automatically wiped his mouth, and tightened his mantel around him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he glanced at one of the immense windows. The skies displayed their various shades of oppression, clouds rolling in furious waves, growing darker and darker as the day inexorably died.

_Died_.

He drew a grim grin. The red embers of a long-contained desire burst inside his veins.

He was going to kill, tonight.


	5. Merciless

Loki really wondered how his alleged murderer had managed to break into the Royal Tower. He had not even been given the time to fully fall asleep. As far as unstoppable assassins went, this one displayed a very disappointing sense of timing. He – because his breathing in the silent room clearly denonciated a he – was subtle, that Loki willingly admitted, but he really should have chosen a later hour of the night – he even could have waited until dawn; but obviously, the element of surprise was not his main strength.

Stilly laying under his fresh, white sheets, dressed in the less transparent night garment he possessed, he patiently waited for the man to make a move – even the most anodyne one. To pass the time, he tried to think of all the ways the intruder could have bypassed the Tower's security features.

Had he put down the guards? Unlikely. Loki had taken a detailed look at them. They were provided with the same – yet probably much more deadly – semi-armors he had seen random citizens wearing, earlier in the day.

Had he climbed all the way through the fifty-or-so levels that separated Loki from the ground? He could not possibly have done it without being noticed. Night on this parcel of Earth was almost as clear as day – confusing, artificial lights, everywhere.

Before he could think of another hypothesis, truth struck him like a slap on the cheek. What a stupid, tired little brain he had.

Why would one from the common people want him dead? The only ones who could possibly benefit from the passing of a new concubine were all the cunning minds that _already gravitated around the Prince, here, inside the Palace, and made themselves look like trustworthy peers._ The murderer probably had been _allowed_ to step into his room. No guard, even the most highly trained, was immune to skilful manipulation.

Those were the rules in Asgard. Thor's bed was considered the most powerful place in the Realm, and every single one of his courtiers seemed to believe that he, Loki, was to become his consort, sooner or later. Hence, in order to give themselves – or their sons, or their daughters, or their brothers and sisters, or a cousin, or a friend, ect. – a better chance of reaching this oh-so-envied position, they tried to kill him. Blatantly logical, it was. How could he possibly have thought it would be any different here? A snake nest was a snake nest. The Prince had even warned him. _You've lived in a Royal Court before_.

He really had underestimated these little Humans' potential of deviousness.

He still was not afraid. At worst, he was jaded. All the same, all over again.

Well, at the very least, Anthony was not Thor.

Thor.

The thought of his arrogant, smiling face was sufficient to rekindle the glacial _joy_ that overwhelmed him at the simple idea of killing.

Only a few seconds had passed since he had first started to reflect on his assassin's presence in his

bedroom. The man still had not moved. _What was he doing?_

As he was about to wildly spring out of bed to catch the trespasser off guard, he felt an invisible, immaterial hand slowly constrict around his neck. A light gasp slipped between his lips, as he instinctively rose his own hand, vainly attempting to catch the non-existent grip that inexorably took his breath away.

_How was it possible? Here?_

He growled in incomprehension and, for the very first time, in fear. He writhed under the sheets. A light whimper of despair echoed in his throat as he opened a horrified gaze on his own, near, so very near, ending.

No.

No, no, no.

He had survived it all. He had come all this way. He had borne all the pain and the disgrace and the shame. He had waited all this time, hoping, praying to be given one small chance to avenge the loss of his freedom.

He would not die today.

Another growl shook away the cold terror that had wrapped itself onto his bones. A feverish flame dawned at the very core of his being, ran through his blood, dilated his lungs. Suddenly, he was breathing freely, and rising from agony to cast a deathly glance upon his astonished assailant.

The man was short and slim. He was light of hair and dark of eyes. A deep, red glow faltered at the end of his fingers, as he clumsily stepped back.

_Who was afraid now?_

“Oh, how I wish you were him”, Loki said in a scarcely audible whisper.

And before his prey could wonder about this most strange saying, he dived.

He was exceptionnally strong. He had always been. He knew it, despite  _them_ having erased all his memories of his childhood and capture. They probably thought it would make him easier to train. A ridiculous idea born from pitiful minds. He maybe could not recall  _all_ the reasons why he hated them, but he still could  _feel_ it, deep in his bones. He hated them, and he hated what they wanted to turn him into. He remembered giving hell to Thor and his trainers for  _years_ , before shamefully giving in to the everlasting pain of neverending punishments, and understanding that freedom would come from patience, and misleading submission. 

Playing this disgusting part had him forced to contain so many outbreaks of violence, he perpetually felt like an imploding sun.

His only opportunities to let out all of his rage came when someone attempted to murder him. Then, and only then, he would display the most delightful acts of fierceness he could imagine.

And he would always, always, close his eyes, and, in his tortured mind, have his begging victim play the role of the only one he truly wished dead at his feet.

And so he did, as he clamped his fingers around the man's neck, slowly, painfully throttling him, tasting every single one of his moans like he would have tasted a piece of the finest delicacy. He could smell the perfect essence of his fear, as he could feel his amusing attempts to revive the crimson glimmer that had died on his fingers before he could use it to flee.

He imagined Thor desperately trying to call Mjolnir, only to realise he was now too weak, and therefore unworthy. He almost let out a laugh. Oh, the ecstasy.

_I have never been yours, Thor. You have never possessed me. Every time you thought I was willingly pleasuring you, I thought of all the ways I could end your miserable existence. Every time I called you Master, I imagined you crawling in front of me, drowning in your own worthless blood, begging me to spare your life. Every time you hurt me, Thor, was a minute added to the length of your agony._

Unfortunately, the man was not Thor. He died in no time.

“Guards?” he shouted after a short moment of morbid contemplation. “There is a corpse in my room.”

 

Ten minutes later, the Prince and his Prime Minister, all wrapped up in silky dressing gowns, were rushing into his chamber. The wardens, to whom Loki had explained strictly nothing, mischievously pretending to be in shock, were standing next to the dead and covered body, in shame.

“We swear, Your Majesty, we let no one in!” they immediately whined to their Prince.

“And still, someone tried to kill a delegate from Asgard”, the Duchess severely observed.

Interesting choice of words, Loki and Tony both thought to themselves. The Prince glanced at his coronation present, his head slightly tilting sidewards.

“You killed him”, he deduced.

“I fought for my life, my Prince.”

The said Prince slowly nodded. He was impressed. The slave swallowed a smile.

“What happened, exactly?” the Human asked, while the guards desperately tried to plead their cause to the young – and very tired – Minister.

Loki hesitantly bit his inner lip and shifted to his right as the Midgardian sat next to him, on the edge of the bed. He would have found it terribly amusing, if the guards had been accused of treason. But he was too curious to keep this one vital information to himself.

“The guards could not have seen him, my Master”, he stated. “He used magic to break in.”

An incredulous silence followed his confession. All protagonists stood still.

“That's impossible”, the future King finally protested.

“I thought so too, Your Majesty”, Loki modestly whispered. “I had been told there was no magic on Midgard.”

“There isn't, indeed”, Duchess Virginia confirmed, lowering her frowning gaze towards the corpse. “Could he be from Asgard? A traitor?”

“Asgard no longer possesses magic, my Lady”, the slave denied, shaking his head. “It is considered a weak occupation.”

“Then how? Who?” the Prince impatiently enquired, casting a disgusted look upon the cadaver.

“I do not know, my Master”, Loki admitted in an almost inaudible voice, his eyes on his feet.

Stark grunted, clenching his fists and jaw.

“Don't worry, Loki”, the Duchess reassured him in the softest tone she could adopt, considering the circumstances. “We can't expect you to know all the answers”, she added, much more for the Prince than for himself, he gathered. “I will have the corpse be taken care of and will immediately launch an inquiry. His Majesty will stay with you.”

“Yeah, I'll do that”, Tony sighed while raising a hand to rub his tired eyelids.

Loki slightly arched an eyebrow. The Midgardian Prime Minister had the most unusual influence on her Prince. He definitely would have enjoyed seeing her tame the Blonde Beast, up above.

“After all, I owe you a favor”, the future monarch added with a faint smile, turning to him.

His lips lightly parted. By the Norns, he had almost forgotten about this.

“Perfect”, the Duchess concluded, despite giving a suspicious look to the older man – how old could he be? Loki had never really pondered on the question before. “Guards, take the body. And follow me. Good night, Your Majesty. Good night, Loki.”

She very subtly bowed, before leaving the room, shortly followed by both guards, carrying the corpse. Once the door was closed, Anthony sighed and leaned back on the bed, his eyes already shut.

“I'm exhausted. Please don't ask for anything that'll have me moving from this bed”, he muttered.

Loki let out a stifled laugh. He carefully laid on the sheets, two feets apart from his Master, his shivering skin covered with his cloak.

He remained silent for a whole, long minute. He could not ask for any favor. He had to think ahead.

The Prince would not grant him freedom – he desired him, and certainly did not want to go anywhere near a diplomatic incident with Asgard. Besides, asking for freedom now would be the stupidest of miscalculations. Loki needed to stay as close to this man as he could.

He would keep on playing his part. The good slave.

And, without even having to ask, progressively, almost imperceptibly, he would lead himself to become so, so much more.

“I would be most grateful, my Master, if my Master taught me more about this Kingdom”, he ultimately said. “This Kingdom, and my Master's inventions.”

 

***

 

The morgue was empty, cold and silent – it was a morgue.

Duchess Virginia felt as empty, cold and silent, as she stared at the corpse's congested, violet face.

Victor.

She wrote the lonely name on the front page of his file.

In the light-as-day night, escorted by no one but her dagger, she left the Tower, on foot. An inquiry she had launched, an inquiry she would lead.

She needed to have a word with her sister.


	6. First Lesson

Tony had not expected this ask. Well, he had not expected much, since he was way too tired to properly think, but now that he was mute in surprise and fully awake, he could not help but wonder: he was a Prince, he could give far more than plain information, and Loki was a royal pleasure slave, he knew what he could obtain from a Prince. Why would he wish for such a boring favor?

Could it be that he was genuinely eager for knowledge? What a rare jewel he would be, if it were true. But even then: why would he want _him_ to tell him more about Earth? He could ask any servant, or even Virginia. As for his inventions... Okay, if he really was curious about them, Tony was probably the best informant he could hope for.

Was it his way to please him, seduce him? It was more perplexing than anything for the moment, but hey, good try – though Loki really did not need to try and charm him, since Tony had already admitted being attracted to him – however, he had made it clear he was not in the mood tonight, and maybe the slave was afraid he would be repudiated if he failed to give him pleasure promptly enough – oh, darn it, he really did not feel like it right now – which was a shame – but –

_How about you just give your answer, dumbo ?_

“Right now?” he finally dropped. “You want me to tell you all about these things right now? Granted it's not physically tiring and it won't make me get out of this bed, but it's quite a vast matter, you know.”

He slightly smiled, his head turning to face his concubine's.

“I know, my Master”, Loki humbly answered. “I am sorry if my asking unsettled my Master in any way. I was wishing- I dared to wish that my Prince's teachings about my Prince's world and creations would be sort of a... long-term commitment.”

“Woah, big words here”, Tony chuckled. “ _Commitment_. Well, I did commit to grant you a favor if you were to win your gamble. And since you're obviously gifted with the Super Alien Kit of Survival in Royal Courts, I gather there _is_ a point in getting to know each other, now. So yeah, sure. I'll tell you all you wanna know. D'you have a list of questions or something?” he enquired, both amused and pensive.

“I thank my Prince for my Prince's generosity”, Loki hastily murmured. “As for my questions, I-”

“Can I ask _you_ a favor, before you go any further?” the heir cut him off. “Don't bother calling me by my titles all the time. 'You' is way more practical, I guarantee you.”

“But, my Master...”

“You're not in Asgard anymore, baby. You want me to teach you all about Earth? Here's your first lesson: no useless bombast. Come on, try it”, he insisted while reaching out for a large trey of fresh fruits.

Loki blinked three or four times, evidently taken aback, and, more subtly, pleased – or maybe surprised to be pleased.

“I am grateful for my Master's- for _your_ eagerness to make me acclimate to the Midgardian customs”, he finally stuttered.

“There you go”, the Prince congratulated him, before throwing a grape into his own open mouth. “Want some?”

“What is it?” the slave timidly asked.

Tony raised an eyebrow, startled for an instant.

“Wow, you've really got some catching up to do”, he then soflty laughed. “Open wide.”

The Asgardian lightly shuddered, and Tony clearly saw his legs begin to part before he rapidly tightened his cloak around him, while abruptly unsealing his mouth. The Human pursed his lips, but kept his thoughts to himself, as he gently dropped a grape on the younger man's tongue.

“Chew on it or you'll choke on it, as my mother always said”, he recommended with a smile, wincing a bit when the potential second meaning of this seemingly innocent saying found its way into his thoughts.

Despite this ambiguous advice, Loki obediently did as he was told, but, apparently, not choking on the fruit was not enough for him to enjoy it.

“Acidic?”

“Yes, quite”, the slave pouted. “I am sorry, Master.”

“Don't be. You're not used to our food just yet. You'll learn.”

He ate a few grapes more, then comfortably settled under a small portion of the sheets and closed his eyes in a sigh.

“I'm pretty sure I'll be asleep in ten minutes, but I can try to answer a few questions. Actually, I might ask you some too, if you don't mind.”

“Well”, Loki whispered after three seconds of hesitant silence. “I never stated that I would not return the favor. And my sole purpose is to please my Master”, he swiflty added, much like a child who had almost forgotten his well-learned lesson.

Tony promised himself he would adress this, later. He was sincerely curious. He never actually had had pleasure slaves, before. He had shared his bed with concubines, whom he had “selected”, but they had always been given a choice, and being his lovers was not their “sole purpose”. They had not been trained. And, from what the Duchess had told him, from what he had read, and from what he was witnessing, just now, pleasure slaves in Asgard were more than trained – they were conditioned.

“Good. Don't forget to let go of the titles, a bit. And you go first.”

“Thank you, my Mas- Thank you”, Loki prudently said, before spending the next few seconds in a quite intense thinking process. “What makes Midgard a powerful Realm?” he finally enquired.

Tony bit his inner lip, before bursting out laughing.

“Oh, dear, you had to go with the easy one, didn't you?” he smirked.

He then proceeded to explain to a very confused Loki how Midgard was not, in any way, a united kingdom, and how the Mighty Thor's political upbringing and long-lasting disinterest in Earth had probably slightly altered his comprehension of Human governing systems.

“I'm still a Prince”, he concluded, “but the Prince of not that big of a State – though House Stark is still technically the most powerful family on Earth, which is probably why Asgard sees me as the future leader of the whole planet. As for what makes me powerful...”

With a finger, he patted his own temple, showing absolutely no humility whatsoever.

“I'll show you some of my favorite inventions tomorrow”, he promised with a glimpse of tired enthusiasm.

The slave remained silent for a solid thirty seconds before finally allowing himself to say:

“I believe I have learned more in the past minutes than I expected to learn in a whole week. Thank you, my Mast- Thank you.”

“I'm glad your curiosity is satisfied. Or maybe it's not?”

“I... Well, I did wonder about those strange metal garments, those bright, colorful lights, and those dark clouds, coming from behind the mountain, and-”

“You've really got an inquiring mind, haven't you?” Tony interrupted, his lids partially open to cast a fascinated gaze upon his slave's face.

“I apologize, my Prince, is it too much?”

“Nah, it's all right”, he discreetly yawned. “I'll explain. But then it'll be my turn, and then we'll go to sleep, and we'll continue tomorrow, okay?”

“O...kay”, Loki accepted, despite visibly having no idea what this bizarre word could possibly mean.

“Good”, the Prince carefreely smiled. “So. Basically, all this stuff, the lights, the metal exoskeletons, the clouds, it's all linked. It plays a big part in the history of my family and 'Realm', too. Well, mostly because there would be no Realm if my family hadn't existed. You see, my grand-grand-grand-father discovered a very, very precious material, more than a century ago, sort of by mistake. He was looking for water – who cares about water, really, when you can have Vibranium?”

With a theatrical grin, he drew a fine pendant from under his dressing gown. At the end of the silver chain, a small, uncut piece of metal gently oscillated. Loki frowned.

“I know, it doesn't look like much”, the Prince laughed. “It's the very first piece my ancestor retrieved from the soil, back in the days. He too thought it was of no importance, until he threw it away. The tiny piece of scrap hit a tree, in its trajectory. A weird sound arose from this yet anodyne impact. And when Sir Josiah Stark turned around, he saw the tree collapse, entirely.”

Tony smiled widely. He enjoyed telling this story just as much as he enjoyed hearing it, when he was much, much younger. His concubine, on the other hand, still seemed quite sceptical.

“I won't cut off a tree to prove my point – mostly because there are no trees in this State anymore –, but I think the fact that my family built an entire monarchy around this little rock is proof enough”, he majestically stated while cautiously putting the necklace back at his rightful place.

“An entire monarchy”, the slave dreamily repeated.

“A young monarchy, I'll give you that, but stronger than any other before. Cause that's what the Vibranium is all about. It's the strongest material on Earth. And we have it. And I have it.”

“ _It_ must have been the center of many quarrels”, Loki whispered. “Inter- International quarrels”, he specified, obviously very proud to righfully use this new term.

“Oh yeah. Lots of them. Local ones, too, at the beginning, when other random guys tried to claim the Vibranium mines as their own. But we, from House Stark, have always been known for being quite stubborn, and quite clever, too. From the moment my ancestor decided to use the Vibranium as a mean of social ascent, nothing ever stopped him, or his descendants. And here we are now. My father was even brighter than his predecessors, and I'm the brightest man who's ever been, so I believe we're good for at least another hundred years. My grand-grand-grand-father and his first offspring used their intelligence in a very strategic way. They planned things – the building of their empire, quite simply. When my father came to life, the said empire was already more than well established. Hence, he had ministers and advisors to plan things for him, and he was allowed to develop new ways of using his mind. He started to invent machines and gadgets and _things_ , in order to expand his power, prevent attacks, send help to other countries in order to maintain our diplomatic relations, etc. We wasn't nearly as good as me, let's be clear, but I must say, I owe him some good basic ideas”, he concluded, before losing himself in his memories, staring at the white sea of the wall.

“It is a most fascinating tale, my Prince...”

“Yup”, Tony smiled, instantly coming back to the moment. “I liked it too when I was your age – and younger. How old are you, actually?”

“I am afraid it is a question to which I have no precise answer, my Master. But, if I may...”

He bit his lower lip.

“What?”

“Well, the lights, the exosk- exoskeletons, the clouds?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, sorry. Got a bit carried away here. Well, the clouds are coming from the mines. We refine, cut and industrialize the Vibranium there. All these processes produce smog. The factory is particularly active these days, cause I need lots of different, specific pieces for my latest creation. The lights in the city are basically here to help vehicles circulate properly, but they also keep workers awake at night, when they must leave their homes to go, well, to the mines. And the exoskeletons are a personal mean of transport, in the first place. I offer them to deserving workers, so they can be faster, stronger and better protected against the classic injuries that occur inside a mine or a factory. As you may have noticed, I created more complete, more armor-like versions for my guards.”

Loki slowly nodded. Tony, having opened one eye to observe his curious concubine, smiled at his thoughtful pout.

“Another question?” he guessed.

“I- Well- Yes... I beg my Mas- I beg you to forgive me for the boldness of my asking, but could we- could I, eventually, visit the mines?”

The Prince remained mute for a moment.

Why the hell would a delicate little creature like Loki want anything to do with a mine?

_C'mon, you know it's not the real question, nor the real problem._

“I don't think you'd like it”, he finally managed to answer.

“I am sorry”, Loki immediately backtracked, almost imperceptibly curling up in his cloak as if it were a velvet shield. “My request was greedy and foolish.”

He lowered his gaze, and stayed still, his jaw slightly stiff. He looked like he was waiting for somehting to strike him.Tony frowned.

“No, no... It was surprising, for sure, and I really don't think that's a curiosity you'd enjoy to satisfy, but it was not foolish. I guess. And definitely not greedy. Anyway. My turn, now?”

“Yes”, the younger man scurried to approve. “Yes, please, my Master, do ask.”

“No titles”, he sighed with a faint smile. “Okay, so, um, I'd ask you how on Earth you managed to beat a magician from god-knows-where, but I'm guessing it's a tiny bit too soon..?”

“It is not, my Pr- It is not. I told you I had survived in a Royal Court before. I meant it quite literally. I have survived multiple murder attempts, in Asgard. I know how to defend myself.”

In the blink of an eye, Tony's slight smile was gone.

Until now, he had not tried to reconstitute the tragic play at the closing of which Loki had ended the magician's life, both because he hated the thought of death and because he simply could not picture the precious little alien killing anything more than a spider. But now, his restless mind simply could not help but paint, over Loki's sweet features, the fierce lion that must have awoken every single time a living being tried to bring him to his death.

He had in his bed the most extraordinary will to survive he had ever been given the chance to observe.

He felt utterly dumb for not deducing this simple fact before.

“Okay”, he ultimately accepted, very carefully. “But you didn't just knock him out, you killed him.”

“It was him or me, my Master”, Loki murmured, seeming somewhat ashamed. “I believe I am simply made of more than flesh and blood. I found myself able to resist his deadly magic tricks, I managed to reach him, and once my hands were on him, he passed away very swiftly – I did not really have the time to- to think.”

“You _believe_ you are made of more than flesh and blood?” Tony repeated, now burning with curiosity. “What do you mean? You don't know what you're made of?”

The Aesir slowly shook his head.

“I am myself surprised to be this resistant, my Prince. I ignore what makes me partly immune to magic, as a ignore what my exact age is, as I ignore what makes me heal as swiftly as I do. I can only assume I am not a- a _normal_ Asgardian. But I have no memory of what made me this way.”

“Well... There go most of my questions”, the Human vaguely smiled.

“Forgive me, my Prince...”

“Aw, stop it, it's not your fault! Whose fault is it, in fact?”

Indeed, whose fault could it be? Another question he really did not think he would ever have to ask – mostly because he believed he would never be offered the opportunity to ask Loki any question whatsoever.

The slave seemed to hesitate for a brief, very brief instant, but remained silent.

“You don't know either?”

Still no response.

“You don't wanna say it?”

He furtively nodded.

“Okay”, the Prince decided. “Enough with the questions for tonight. I'm tired anyway. And don't you dare say sorry again”, he added, pointing a sluggishly menacing finger at him.

“I promise I will not”, Loki faintly smiled, after a second of tense muteness. “But, if I may...”

“Hm?” Tony muttered, his muscles numb with tiredness.

“Vanaheim”, the younger – or maybe older, they both did not know, apparently – man whispered. “I know for a fact there is still magic in Vanaheim. Maybe it is where the man came from. And maybe his magic allowed him to travel through the branches of Yggdrasil...”

“Hm... I definitely don't like magic... Too easy...” Tony mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow he had reached for a second before. “Tomorrow, I'll show you a-”, he yawned, “a proper way to travel the worlds.”

“I look forward to it, my Prince”, Loki murmured, his lips drawing a content, slightly worrying grin.

But that, Tony, did not see. He was already sound asleep. 


	7. Lady Sinna

The mansion of Lady Sinna Prometh, born Sinna of House Seasons, was wide and low. Perched at the top of a desertic, artificial hill, in the middle of the citadel, it was covered in brown-red bricks, fake climbing plants and curtained windows, which, when open, offered a perfect and peripheral vision of the entire city. Duchess Virginia, slightly spent from the long walk, stood still in front of the black door for a short, silent moment. There was no doorbell, and she knew she did not need to knock. At the corner of her eye, behind a thick glass panel, a fragment of lace patterned fabric promptly shifted. Then she heard the hushed clatter of multiple locks simultaneously opening. Her gloved hand pushed against the heavy, metallic door.

“Pepper!” a feminine, deep voice greeted her.

Sinna rose from an old padded seat, and delicately placed her paintbrush on the multicolored gutter of a tall, wooden easel.

“Would you mind closing the door, please?” she gently asked while wiping her hands in a damp cloth.

There was no smile in her tone, but she did not show any sign of being unpleased with her sister's visit. The Duchess subtly nodded and acceded to the polite request.

Once the door was locked, Sinna fully stepped into the faint light of a golden luminaire. Virginia tensed slightly, biting her inner lip.

Lady Prometh was thirty-two years old – only three years older than her –, yet she diplayed the appearance of a quinquagenarian. Oh, she was a beautiful woman, and Pepper always had admired the noble strength that shined through her sharp traits. A sharpness she had not lost, despite bluish, scary dark circles, born from her growing disinterest for sleep, and tired, flaccid skin, worn out by her growing disinterest for smiles and laughs. Virginia remembered her laugh. It was clear and melodious, as was her voice when she sang. But she did not sing anymore, either. Today, only the reckless shape of her chin, the iron grey of her irises and the innate sensitivity of her paintings remained from the woman she once were.

Her acute passion for elaborate garments and hairdressing had been reduced to a minimalist sense of practicality. She had tied her hair up in a loose, anarchic coil, that allowed a few long waterfalls of white – not blonde, not grey: white – curls to run down her shoulders and back. She wore one of her most ancient gowns, an ample burgundy dress, which belt had been lost ages ago, leading the steep fabric to run down her slender shape in one straight, solid line.

The sophisticated braids and adjusted dress of her younger sister embarrassingly stood out, at this moment – and it was not Sinna who felt embarrassed.

“I really didn't expect to see you at such an hour”, the elder finally stated, one hand reaching out to briefly hold her sister's. “What brought you here?”

Without another word, she turned around and calmly moved towards her vast kitchen, evidently expecting her sibling to follow her. Which she did.

“Maybe you'd like to be seated, Cinnamon”, Pepper softly, affectionately offered, after a second of saddened reflection.

“I wasn't going to wait for your proposition, dearie. And the sole fact of you calling me Cinnamon leads me to believe you're not here to bring me ordinary news.”

Virginia painfully bit her inner cheek, torn apart by the glimpse of hope she could perceive in her sister's eyes.

“Indeed”, she managed to whisper. “It- it is not good news, Sinna.”

The inexpressive mask of the white-haired woman immediately reappeared.

“Don't beat around the bush, Pepper”, she curtly asked, her fingers slightly clenching around the small cup of hot tea she had served herself, after having given one to her sibling.

“Victor is dead”, the Minister desperately, hurriedly obliged, her eyes closing for an instant, her whole body tense with the terrible truth she had to disclose. “He's dead. He tried to kill the Prince's new concubine, they fought, and Victor is dead.”

Her head lowered. She stared at her tea, and at the deadly silence that followed her even deadlier announcement.

“How?” was the first and only reaction she got.

She painfully sank her teeth in her tongue, as she found the strength to meet Sinna's gaze again. Oh, she was devastated. She would never show nor admit it out loud, but pain and denial flew like the darkest waters in the cold sea of her eyes.

“How what?” she whispered, uncomfortably twitching on her chair.

“How did he die?” Sinna staidily asked.

“Darling... Do you- Do you really wish to know? It will only cause you more har-”

“ _How_?”

“... Strangled. During the fight. But, Sinna-”

“He was not a criminal.”

Pepper clenched her jaw. Oh, she had heard this before. Seeking inside the composure that had failed her for the past seconds, she staightened her spine and quietly positioned her palms on the smooth ebony table, as symetrically as possible.

“I know, Sinna. This is why I'm so stunned. And this is why I came to you for answers, though I know now is probably not the time.”

“Now is the only time”, the eldest abruptly contradicted. “I knew Victor better than anyone, Duchess Virginia, Lady Prime Minister – because I assume you didn't come to me as my little sister, tonight, didn't you?” She did not give the younger woman the opportunity to defend herself; she kept going, her voice vibrating in the room like the furious call of a cello string. “He was a gentle, discreet, lovely and loving _child_. He was barely ten years old when I found him, a decade ago. He didn't change. He was still the same; a little stronger, a little brighter, but the same selfless soul. There must've been a misunderstanding.”

“Sinna...” Pepper softly murmured, one hand slightly moving towards hers. “I know I didn't know him as well as you did, but I still held him in deep affection...”

And she meant every single one of her words. Victor was her sister's only light in the night. An adoptive son, a friend, a confidant, a helper. Of course Pepper loved him, for she loved Sinna, and Victor made Sinna live.

“And I need to understand”, she added, helplessly. “Don't you too?”

“I only needed him to come back home with the groceries I had asked him to do”, Sinna growled in the still full cup that a slightly shaking hand had brought near her livid lips. “What will I eat now?”

The Duchess swallowed a thorny ball of tears, as she lowered her gaze.

“I'm so sorry...”

“You don't have to be”, Sinna reprimanded her. “Not for this, at least.”

Pepper tensed once again. Stifling her grief in the nest, she faintly frowned.

_Really? She's bringing this up now?_

“I'm doing my best”, she argued. “But I'm no magician.”

She gave her sister an inquisitive glance. Which the perceptive woman evidently noticed.

“What are you implying?” she coldly asked.

“According to the Prince's concubine, Victor used magic to break into the tower.”

“A most interesting woman – or man ? –, this concubine...”

“He's from Asgard”, Pepper wearily explained.

“Your Prince really knows no boundaries, does he? Strangely enough, I thought he was done with _concubines_.”

“It's complicated, Sin”, the Minister sighed, massaging her temples with two fingers. “He's a diplomatic present. Tony- the Prince couldn't refuse.”

“A _present_?” the grieving mother suddenly burst, her eyes wide with disbelief and anger. “You mean to tell me he's a _slave_?”

“Sinna, please...” Pepper shamefully whispered, well knowing she had made a huge mistake.

“Is it not enough for him to have men dying every day in his _damned_ mines?! He needs one to comply to all his _disgusting_ desires?! And you allowed that! Oh, you even encouraged him, didn't you? Because Asgard is such an _important_ Realm, so important they didn't even care for us for almost a century! We wouldn't want them being offended by, oh, I don't know, the fact that we _fucking_ don't want, or need, or _have_ slaves! But I'm getting ahead of myself, here, aren't I, because His Majesty still has them losing all dignity and health in inhuman labor, exactly where his father put them, for crimes some of them did _not_ commit!”

“Your husband was found guilty in the eyes of the law, Sinna!” the accused magistrate shouted, bruskly rising from her seat, her cheekbones red with both disgrace and revolt in the face of such unfair charges. “I reopened the case _five times._ I made sure all the investigators were unbiased, I had them checking every single little detail, I personally led most of the interrogatories, and when the King decided it was enough, when it became impossible for me to doubt Horace's guilt, I obtained you the right to visit him. I used _all_ the extent of my power, Sinna Prometh!”

“I know that!” the oldest screamed in return, before collapsing in her seat, head buried in his hands. “I know that... But I hoped- I hoped you would at least...”

A silent sob stopped her from continuing, and she tightened her fingers around her hair, as if she wanted to pull them all out. Pepper felt the cold bite of remorse dig a dolorous hole in her chest.

“Sinna, Cinammon, darling, please”, she begged, crossing the few steps that divided them and falling on her knees, her hands on her sister's lap. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you know I am, you know how I wish none of this had happened. You know I've been working on this, you know nothing will make me stop... Right? I know, it's wrong of me to have made him accept the slave, I know... But I was so taken aback... Please, understand... Once our relations with Asgard are stable – and it might happen faster than we think –, I'll find a way to make him release the slaves. All of them. No more slavery, I swear... You know I can't promise Horace won't pay the price of his actions, but he'll be human again, Sinna, I promise. Your husband will be human again.”

She reached out for her sister's hands, pressing them nervously into her own, her eyes seeking hers to seal the renewal of this old, old promise.

“How will you?” Lady Prometh whispered, the stream of her powerful voice broken in despair. “He's worse than his father...”

“I made him accept Loki, I'll make him accept to set him free. And with him, all the enslaved men and women of this State.”

“You're so assured...” Sinna faintly smiled, freeing a hand to gently caress the lines of her baby sister's beautiful face. “You have one hell of an influence on him, don't you?”

“I- Well”, she blushed, trying a smile too, partly comforted by Sinna's lighter tone, “I believe he enjoys having someone to take the 'boring decisions' for him. Pretty much as his father did.”

“But slavery isn't a boring subject, is it? Otherwise you would've made Howard abolish it for ages, now.”

“Yes, it's- it's a sensitive matter. Howard had his reasons, Anthony holds his own... But now that Loki is here, I believe things will change. The Prince has seen from very close what being considered as a piece of meat can mean – he didn't enjoy it. I think he will treat the Asgardian well. I'll confront him with his own contradictions, sooner or later.”

“I trust your wit, my Pepper”, Sinna softly said, before laying a kiss on the young woman's forehead. “But I must say... I would've preferred my Victor to come home tonight, even- even if it would've implied the death of this Loki – whatever were the poor child's reasons to try and kill him”, she added in a strangled whisper, her gaze low.

“I know... I know”, the Duchess compassionately murmured. “I would've preferred him to have no reason to kill him at all, quite honestly”, she nervously stated, shaking her head. “Did you know anything about him using magic?” she then asked, after a second of irresolute silence. 

“Yes”, Sinna ultimately admitted, her head down, her voice only a rustle. “I knew he wasn't like us, and probably not from this world... But I didn't care, and I didn't want anyone else to care. So we kept it a secret.”

“I... understand”, Pepper pensively mouthed, her mind already racing into the new circuit of possibilities that this answer had opened for her.

“Maybe... Maybe he met this Loki, before, when he was younger, on another planet... Maybe something happened, something wrong. Maybe he heard of the Asgardian's presence on Earth, and-”

“Seeked revenge?”

“Maybe... I don't know, I'm-”

“It's alright”, Pepper tried to comfort her, tightening the grip of her hands around hers. “It's alright. I've asked you way too much, already. I'll- I'll leave you to rest. Unless you want me to stay for the night?”

“I think- I think I need to be alone. Please.”

“I understand”, she mouthed again, already standing on her feet, gazing downards to cast all her loving empathy onto her unfortunate sibling. “I'll come and visit anytime you want. Just call me, I'll be there.”

“You're always there, Pepper”, Sinna tiredly thanked her, drawing the ghost of a smile.

And then she was back on her old armchair, her paintbrush in hand, tracing lines Virginia could not see. She arduously swallowed, then covered her recognizable head with her hood, and silently left.

_What a mess they've made_ , she thought as she fought not to cry her way back home. 


	8. The Pride of the King

Glancing at his slave with predaceous hunger, Thor ran a hand through his golden locks, still damp from the warm, soothing bath he had lost himself into for a long hour.

“Loki”, he mouthed, as his darkened, desire-filled irises slid onto the younger man's nudity.

“Master”, his servant faintly whimpered, leading the King to shiver in lust.

The bedroom was silent – a silence which was only broken by the drumming of the two Asgardians' racing heartbeats. The dark-haired man laid on his stomach, cutting a perfect, white silhouette into the deep red sheets that covered the regal bed. His face buried in a soft, thick pillow, he awaited, his porcelain skin tense with chills. Still standing near the doorstep, Thor slowly closed the heavily ornamented panel, before taking ten keen steps towards the embodiement of temptation to whom he had given the order to wait for him, here, prior leaving for training, three hours ago.

“Are you prepared?” he asked in a low, soft voice, when he finally reached his goal.

“I am, my Master”, his lover confirmed in a muffled whisper.

“Show me”, the King commanded, the tip of his index finger underlining his wish by laying an insisting caress between the bare, round cheeks that displayed their blushing flesh before his eyes.

The slave let out a light gasp, and eagerly obeyed, his backside rising to fully meet the embrace of the monarch's palm. He spread his slender thighs, unveiling the gold ring that tightly circled the base of his hard, already leaking shaft. A sign of belonging that all of Thor's male slaves proudly wore, day and night. The God of Thunder bit his lower lip. As much as he enjoyed witnessing his servant's unquenchable thirst, it was not this readiness he truly wanted him to make a spectacle of for his Master.

“Show me more”, he ordered, one hand roughly gripping the mellow pulp of his right cheek, before abandoning it to take a step back, as he rapidly unfastened the belt of his bathrobe, allowing the light fabric to slide down his desirous body, all the way to the ground.

As he waited for his servant to oblige, he slid a hand down his strong abdomen and began to stroke himself with quite limited patience, his thumb avidly pressing on the sensitive tip of his stiffening cock, his lips open in faint, hungry sighs.

The obedient slave immediately undid his grip on the sheets and brought both hands to his exposed ass, spreading it widely for his Master to contemplate the _width_ of his willingness.

His tight hole was twitching around a thick, transparent cylinder, marked with the name of his King. His perineum and balls were dripping with the clear oil that originated from the inner part of the expanding device itself, and regularly flowed out of him. The bottle-shaped object, filled with the lubricating liquid, was made of a substance hard enough to stretch out the narrow walls, yet soft enough to respond to pressure. Every time the slave's ass clenched around it, a few drops of oil spurted out of the bottle's small spout, preventing his sensitive insides from going dry, hence, making penetration as pleasurable as possible for the King.

Another demonstration of ownership that all of Thor's slaves, male or female, wore almost permanently, with the demanding mission of never letting it slide out of them. 

An idea that aroused the God quite as much as the sight of his pet's gaping hole. He groaned in satisfaction, his hand tightening on his now fully erect cock. His free fingers rushed to the base of the broadening toy, imprinting a vivid, circling movement on it, causing his servant to shudder and moan, helplessly. 

“How long have you kept it in?” the King enquired, still impatiently stroking himself. 

“E-Ever since my arrival, Master.”

“Do you feel ready for me?” Thor slightly smiled, feeling his width and length grow and grow inside his hand. 

“Always... My Master... Yeees!”

The slave let out a stifled scream as the merciless rotation inside of him initiated an exhilarating friction against his most sensitive spot, leading his whole body to tense in desperate, searing pleasure. With a roar of desire, Thor suddenly freed both of his hands, grabbed his servant's thighs and shoved his throbbing cock between them, before forcing them to close onto it and starting to rock his hips in heavy, hungry thrusts.

“Show me how ready you are to feel me move in you”, he ordered in a grunt, his nails sinking into his smooth flesh.

Face red with both want and frustration, the younger man wailed a weak “Yes” before rising his ass as high as he could and sending his right hand to grope for the end of the oiled plug. Having found it, he strengthened his grip on his left cheek, spreading it to its limits, and quickly retrieved the toy from his drenched hole, only to thrust it back in a second after, pushing it deep inside of him in an indecent moan. He fucked himself with utter eagerness, following his Master's pace as the latter kept on masturbating between his thighs. His whimpers and cries, despite still being muffled into a pillow, grew closer and closer, as his caged cock hopelessly bounced against his tummy. 

Not even a minute passed before Thor, brought to the edge by this shameless display, commanded him to stop, pulled the dripping toy out of him and threw it on the sheets. Spent and shivering, the slave instinctively clenched his fingers onto the cushion, as his Master clamped his own around his legs, spreading them wide again.

In a sole, brutal thrust, the God slid his whole length into his pet's quivering opening. He found his insides perfectly prepared, slick, warm and still tight enough to provide him with extatic pleasure. Satisfied and yet still hungry, he started pounding him brutishly into the mattress, his heavy growls answering his submissive's high-pitched screams as the arousing sound of his hips slapping his ass punctuated each and every one of his thrusts.

Thor's way of fucking was nor playful, nor generous; it was self-centered and efficient. 

He nailed his slave to the bed, one fist closed into his dark curls to pull his head back when his urges required higher moans, one hand ready to spank him when said moans still were not pleasing enough. 

When he found himself ready to come, he tightened his grip on his lover and leaned over him to growl into his ear:

“Who is your King?”

“Ah- Y-You a-aaah-re, my K-King!”

“Louder”, he ordered as he reached his ultimate pace, pleasure radiating in every single one of his cells as his slave trembled under him, clenched around him, and still worshipped him.

“ _My King, my King, m-my Kiiing_!”

With this, the God of Thunder let out a final roar, and shot his thick, burning come deep inside his servant, whose repetitive adoration ended in a long, hoarse cry. 

As the Master pulled out his softening cock, the slave weakly moaned in despair, his own shaft still painfully hard. Nevertheless, he promptly worked out a way to catch his lost breath, and painted a servile smile onto his blood red lips. If he was given the time, he would take care of himself later, in the privacy of the harem's bathroom. His pleasure had no importance, in the royal bedroom. 

“You have been good”, Thor simply complimented after having rolled over, closing his eyes so he would not risk seeing his pet's face. “You may leave now.”

The servant tensed a little, taken aback and slightly worried by the detached tone of his King – also slightly ashamed to feel such happiness at the idea of being given the chance to find ecstasy of his own. 

“I am glad I pleased you, my Master”, he murmured while leaving the bed, clumsily attempting to hide the burning ache that haunted all the lower parts of his anatomy. 

“I will maybe have you again, another time”, the King specified with a light smile, before sending him away with a nod, lids still shut. 

 

Finding himself alone at last, Thor rubbed a hand over his face, and let out an ashamed sigh.

Fälinn had offered him this new slave for a blatantly obvious and surreptitiously condescending reason. Yet, despite the patronizing undertone of his counsellor's attention, he could not pretend he had not desired this encounter, let alone he had not enjoyed it. But no matter how obedient and pleasurable Ersätt was, no matter how much he looked like Loki, no matter how graciously he accepted to be called Loki, he was not Loki. He could not _replace_ Loki. 

And the King found himself overwhelmed with a persistent feeling of unease, as he juggled his frustrations and desires, his longing for change and his wish to go back in time.

Then, preventing him from drowning into the emerald irises of his lost favorite, the call of a raven sounded in the distance. 

Hugin. 

Before he could rise and rush to the window, the flutter of his spy's wings invaded the room.

“Welcome, old friend”, he murmured, his eyes finally opening. “I apologize for my indecent appearance. I am sure you never witnessed my father in such garment...”

A deep, nervous laugh emerged from his large throat. He immediately suppressed it and shook the disrespectful thought away, his gaze lowering in abashment as he swiflty covered himself.

“What have you learned, in Midgard, my loyal informant?” he then asked, attempting to make his voice as sure as it could be.

The crow had not learned much, he discovered. The windows of the Midgardian Royal Tower were permanently closed, and immune to all indiscreet, exterior ears. Hugin only had managed to _see_. 

He had seen the gentle kiss laid by the Prince on Loki's lips. He had registered as accurately as possible, despite the distracting sounds of the night and the shadowy setting of the room, the attempted murder, and the way Loki had defended himself. He had noticed the strange vibration of an ancient, underdeveloped, but genuine magic. And then he had seen the Prince rush back into the room, and decide to spend the night with his new possession.

“Have they...?” Thor hesitantly asked after a moment of deep reflection. 

The crow shook his head.

“But he was pleased with the present”, he remembered, hiding his idiotic relief behind a thoughtful mask.

Indeed, Anthony of Midgard did seem to enjoy Loki's company.

“I suppose it is all that matters”, the King whispered, briefly losing himself into his unspoken jealousy and hidden concern for Loki's safety, before slightly frowning. “Magic, you said? Midgardians never have possessed magic. And Fälinn never informed me of a change in the matter. The Prince's power only comes from his science _,_ does it not?”

No answer came to sooth his doubts. He gritted his teeth. It would not be the first time Fälinn would consider him “already burdened with so many tasks and responsabilities”, he would not “dare to bother him with unimportant information”. 

_ Once there was a cunning spider, perpetually luring the naïve bee back into its web... _

“Oh, dear Hugin”, he finally sighed, his irritation slowly turning into a weary self-questioning. “Am I not a brave warrior ? How can it be that I am not as brave of a King ?” he murmured, his tired, worried gaze lifting up to the stolid bird. “How can it be that I fail to find the will to become myself, and not the pale replica of my father ? Is it not the most tragic and paradoxal of situations ? My actions are his, my glory is his, the love of the people for me is his. But to propel myself into this illusory halo of splendor, I allowed my deep being to become a mindless puppet, in my own Palace, in the eye of my closest teachers and counsellors. The irony of it, Hugin, is that I did it all for Odin to be proud, and for his ministers, now mine, to esteem me. I have been a brilliant student, an exceptional listener – oh, I listened to everything they said. And here I am now. I am not as foolish as they think, Hugin. I know far too well that my blind acceptance of the path set in front of me is the reason why they _never_ respected me as they did my father. But, Norns, _why_ am I such a _coward_ , for aknowledging their lack of true loyalty, my lack of authority on them, and not putting an end to it all ?! Why ?!”

He violently threw a vase across the room, the aggressive sound of it crashing against the wall causing the crow to caw in protestation. The King let out an exhausted, unhappy laugh. 

“I even was too weak to refuse having Loki taken away from me”, he whispered. “And now they feed me his lookalike, as if I were a weeping, capricious wolf cub who had lost his favorite toy, and required it to be faithfully replaced in order to remain as docile, as malleable. This is the state they have always kept me in, Hugin.”

He buried his head in his hands, taking deep breaths as he felt his rage against himself and the sickening atmosphere he was trapped into grow stronger and stronger.

“I need someone different”, he decided, after a long, long moment of pensive, angry silence.

He rose from his bed, suddenly febrile.

“Someone mad, someone puzzling, living and prospering in such a stunning environment, someone I simply do not understand”, he thought out loud, a light smile finding its way on his lips. “Someone I will try to understand. Someone who will make me see everything differently. Yes, _yes_. I simply cannot expect to change here, in the Eternal Kingdom, surrounded by eternal men which will eternally remain as they are – and expect the same from me. I need someone different, and someone mortal.”

Yes. He would see Loki again, he would investigate the presence of magic on Midgard, and he would absorb the essence of what made _him_ different. Nor worst nor better than him, but, at the very least, _different_. 

“Hugin, you will send a message to the Prince of Midgard.”


	9. A Hectic Awakening

Tony woke up to the unfamiliar yet terribly pleasant scent of a dense, smooth curl of hair that gently tickled the end of his nose, as its owner laid still and unconscious, next to him. His lids fluttered, and a content smile slowly arose on his dry lips. There were worst ways of awaking. He wrapped the dark strand around his index finger, bringing it closer to fully inhale its strange, definitely not earthly perfume. Loki's hair seemed to be made of silk – a perfectly soft, delicate veil of black silk, lenghtily immersed in a lake of intoxicating floral aromas.

He hummed his appreciation as he sat up in the vast bed, the mark of the pillow still scarring his face from ear to chin. He yawned and stretched, his sight lowering to meet the serene visage of his slave – his concubine – his protégé – he was not sure anymore. What a strange night it had been. Maybe he had dreamed it all. Did he wish he had dreamed it all ? It certainly would have been simpler. Now he was confused, and he had questions, and he wished they would all answer themselves already, so he could come back to caring solely about what really needed his care – what he really wanted to care about.

But he simply could not pretend he did not feel magnetically captivated by this overly servile and secretly fierce survivor from outer space, whose smell made him agreeably dizzy, and whose will to learn made him – _oh !_ – uncontrollably excited.

His gone smile returned, large and satisfied. Yes. He remembered. _I would be most grateful, my Master, if my Master taught me more about this Kingdom. This Kingdom, and my Master's inventions_. His inventions. Perfect. He would take him to the lab, and they would both put aside every single little thought that had nothing to do with Vibranium, formulas, astrophysics, and _fun things_ overall. Perfect, perfect.

One hand reaching out for the plateful of sugary pastries that a servant had brought in while he was still asleep, he allowed the back on his free fingers to run onto Loki's smooth, pale cheek.

“Wakey, wakey”, he cheerfully whispered as the Asgardian's lids arduously parted, his eyes fuddled behind a cloud of weariness.

Loki frowned slightly, then let out a small groan and hastily tried to free his hands from the bundle of velvet he had buried them into. Tony could not help but mentally compare him to a clumsy butterfly, trying to get out of his cocoon.

“I am sorry, Master”, his hoarse voice managed to articulate as the Prince helped him out and led him to sit.

“You're way too easily sorry about way too many things”, Tony sighed. “Is it some kind of weird reflex?”

“I should have awoken before my- before you”, the slave sheepishly explained. “Then I would have been fully prepared to serve you.”

“Nonsense. Forget about that. Starting from now, if I need you, I'll wake you up, just as I did today. Okay?”

It was a very rhetorical question, of course. Loki even seemed to understand he was not being given a choice, and simply nodded, before subtly rubbing his tired eyes and hiding a yawn in a fold of the cloak he still kept wrapped up around him.

“What may I do to please you, my Prince?” he eventually asked, as Tony handed him a large choice of sweet, small cakes.

“That's the good part; it'll please you as much as me”, the Midgardian smiled.

He shoved a strawberry-jelly-filled bun in the hesitating hands of his curious little alien, whom raised a questioning eyebrow. Obviously, he was not a morning person. Maybe with some coffee...

“I'll take you to my lab”, Tony explained with an amused, yet still excited grin. “But first, we're gonna eat. Then I'll go back to my room to get dressed and- yeah, you'll put on something a bit more practical than this cape and whatever you're wearing underneath.”

His hand drew a vague circle towards Loki's whole body. The slave took a confused look to the delicacy which sticky content slowly dripped onto his palm, then lifted his gaze up to meet Tony's strange signals.

“I do not possess _practical_ attires”, he finally, cautiously murmured, before bringing the edible gift to his lips and carefully biting into the soft, rich bread.

“Careful with that, it's a bitch for cleanliness”, Tony smirked while pointing at the trickling pastry.

Only a second after did he actually process what Loki – who now looked utterly lost – had just said.

“Wait, not practical clothes? Like no pants and shirt? They don't do pants and shirts, in Asgard?”

“I ignore what a _shirt_ is, my Master”, the dark-haired man admitted, “but I never have been allowed into a forge before. It is not my purpose to go in such places. My apparels are meant to please my Master's eye. All of them.” As Tony silently stared, he blushed and lowered his gaze. “I know I am contravening all laws, spoken and unspoken, by making my curiosity known and asking for the priviledge of quenching it. My enthusiasm for my new environment maybe made me too bold, and I will gladly accept punishment if you believe I should learn my pla-”

“Woah, woah, woah, stop it right here!” the Prince interrupted, rising both hands as if he tried to physically prevent Loki from pursuing his disturbing act of submissive apology. “I thought I had made it clear, Loki: you're not in Asgard anymore. Things are different here, and the more you tell me, the more I believe you were totally right to be enthusiastic about it. As much as you please my eye – not just my eye, for that matter –, I don't intend to reduce you to this unique _purpose_ , as you say. I like curious people, and I'm really happy to share my inventions with someone around here who really cares. Okay? Now, enough with the heartfelt speeches, they're boring. Imma go change in my room, come back with some decent clothes for you, and we'll unbore the hell out of this morning. Sounds good?”

“I-”

“Perfect! See ya!”

And he was gone.

 

Loki stood still and silent for thirty solid seconds, his eyes on the door, his mind split between utter bewilderment and cunning satisfaction. The Prince was a compacted grid of hyperactive nerves and infinite unpredictability.

He genuinely did not know how to feel about this. It had been quite a while since he last had felt anything genuinely – hatred excepted.

When he finally got up, he still did not quite know what to do with himself. He walked from the bed to the window, from the window to his closet, where all of his garments had been cautiously settled on strangely shaped triangles, which upper angle ended in a hook that allowed the whole set to hang on a long, metallic bar. A quite clever idea, he had to admit.

He ultimately found a fair occupation when he reached his personal bathroom and started to groom his hair.

He was still fighting a recalcitrant knot when the Prince came back, arms full of strange looking pieces of fabric. Looking even more unmanageable than before, he allowed him exactly two minutes to get dressed and meet him in the corridor.

Two minutes were hardly sufficient for Loki to understand how to put on the diabolically intricate set of _things_ that had been handed to him. He nevertheless left his room in time, and fully clothed for the first time in- in forever.

An unusual, warm feeling arose inside his chest. Oh, the outfit felt most uncomfortable, of course, and looked quite ridiculous on him, but, _really_ -

“Thank you”, he whispered when his gaze met his Master's, who was waiting for him, leaning against the wall.

And he truly meant it.

This “heartfelt” sentiment however quickly disappeared in an embarrassed blush, as the Prince let out a gentle laugh and shook his head.

“You're very welcome, darling, but the briefs go under the pants”, he mouthed, pointing at the Asgardian's crotch. “Two more minutes?”

“Yes- Thank you”, Loki murmured again, looking down to hide the faint anger that always accompanied his shame.

One minute later, he was back, and properly dressed, this time.

“Off we go!” the Prince widely smiled.

 

***

 

Loki looked entirely puzzled, and Tony enjoyed every single drop of metaphorical drool that flowed out of his parted lips. The voice of JARVIS nearly had brought the Asgardian to a heart attack, and since the moment Tony had defined the voice as an artificial intelligence, built by him, to help him in his creative tasks, Loki had seemed intimately convinced that his Prince had been a big fat liar, when he had pretended magic did not exist on Midgard. And no matter how hard he tried to hide his astonishment, Tony clearly felt there were two opposite Lokis, each one unlocked with the unlocking of two quite opposite rooms. In the bedroom, there was the eyes-low-and-self-forgetting Loki. In the “forge”, there was the eyes-up-and-avidly-curious-of-everything Loki.

He liked them both.

He did not want to think too much about it, though – it was harder than he had thought it would be, but now that they were getting closer to the _pièce de résistance..._

“It's far from being complete”, he warned, as they approached a restricted area of the immense laboratory. “But it's already quite something”, he proudly added.

“I believe you”, Loki let out with a little laugh, poorly hiding clear signs of impatience.

“Ready?” Tony smiled, before opening the thick, magnetized door, unveiling a vast, silent room, in the middle of which an incomplete yet already gigantic metallic sphere rose from the ground, showered in vivid, white light, and faintly vibrating with a permanent, deep hum.

Loki was perplex; Tony could tell. He obviously had waited for something more spectacular.

“Do you know anything about wormholes, Loki?” he asked in a low, mysterious voice.

“I am guessing it is not what I believe it is”, the slave dared to joke after a moment of silence.

“Good guess”, the scientist laughed. “To put it simply, wormholes are a way of transport through the space-time continuum. Well, actually, they are a way of breaking, folding, if you will, the _continuum_ aspect of space and time. Take a piece of paper. Draw two points at two opposite ends of it. The normal way to connect them is the linear, continuous way. But when you're talking about very, very long distances...”

“The length of the journey becomes a problem.”

“Especially when you're Midgardian, and therefore mortal, like me”, Tony confirmed with a quite admirative and very pleased glance.

“You therefore need a 'less normal' way to connect these two points”, Loki kept on thinking out loud.

“Exactly. We fold the piece of paper-”

“-And make the dots touch each other.”

“Yup ! But that's theory. Real life is not as easy”, the Prince chuckled.

“Time and space – I suppose you are referring to the branches of Yggdrasil – are indeed not as easy to fold as a thin morsel of parchment.”

“And this is what I – and many brilliant men before me – have been trying to sort out, for the past years.”

“And this sphere is the solution.”

“Part of it, yeah. It's the reactor in which I'll create the energy needed to break a hole into the continuum, a whole that'll lead me to another point of space and time.”

“It does sound dangerous”, Loki carefully commented. “How can one know where and when he will arrive?”

“One can't. But I'm not just one. I'm still working on the formulas that'll keep me from ending up in an exploding star, don't worry. That's why I'm quite curious about your Bifrost. If it's not magic – since you're telling me there's no magic in Asgard –, it must be science, very advanced science, and very similar, in some points, to what a wormhole could be. A display of knowledge and intelligence that is quite suprising, considering the barbaric ways of your previous owner, but-” He bit his tongue and silently sighed, then shrugged. “Sorry, I didn't mean to go on a rant here – sorry if it insulted you.”

“Me ? I am not the one you called barbaric, my Prince”, Loki slightly smiled. “You are entitled to your opinion. King Thor is not my Master anymore, I will not take offense in his name.”

“Because you had to, when you were his?”

The slave's gaze dropped to the floor – again. Tony repressed the question that had permanently occupied the back of his mind since the middle of the night – how did one become a pleasure slave and what did it exactly imply, everyday, everynight ? – and gently brought his hand under the Asgardian's chin, slowly raising it for his eyes to meet his. He felt the pale skin shudder under his fingers, and, for the very first time since their paths had crossed, he found himself filled with the desire to give his disconcerting concubine the most soothing, comforting pleasure he could offer.

 

And then the Duchess coughed behind them, and he grunted.

“I'm sorry to interrupt”, Virginia faintly smiled, and he knew she was not sorry at all, “but I have an urgent message.”

“I hope it's about this magician guy who tried to kill my new very good friend here”, Tony grumbled while crossing his arms. “Tell me you know who he is and why he did it, so I can erase this problem from my already way too crowded brain.”

“I'm afraid it's not what the message is about”, the Minister denied, seeming quite uncomfortable, suddenly.

“Oh, so you're bringing me a new problem. Fantastic. Just for the record, and before I forget: if the man used magic, and if this is why no one saw him break in, maybe we should consider him also being the one who murdered all the others. It would explain a hell lot, like, I don't know, the fact that you systematically failed to find out who had done it. This being said, I'm done doing your job for you, give me the message.”

“May I first suggest Your Majesty takes out his frustration on his personal punching bag, which can be found in his soundproof training room?” the Duchess calmly observed, causing Loki to choke on a laugh and Tony to send them both a deadly glance.

“The message”, he sighed. “Please.”

“King Thor wants to visit”, she announced with a small smile. “Roughly, he's learned about the attempted murder and wishes to make sure everything's alright. Also, he admits being quite fascinated by our world and hopes to be given the opportunity to take a better look at it. Finally, he promises he'll bring all the books about the Bifrost he'll be able to find.”

Tony raised both eyebrows, as Loki instinctively closed his arms around himself, hiding his clenching fists under his armpits.

“When does he wanna come?” Tony finally asked, looking both reluctant and tempted – books that explained the whys and hows of the Bifrost: he could not spit on such an opportunity. “And does he still want me to come over someday?”

“He didn't mention it, but one doesn't exclude the other, I suppose. And he's hoping for a quick reply, so I'm guessing he's also hoping to be invited as soon as possible.”

“Not today, that's for sure”, the Prince decided.

“Not tomorrow; you must preside the weekly grievances session and we need to plan your coronation”, the Duchess added.

“Then the day after tomorrow.”

“Perfect. I'll send the crow back to Asgard.”

“The what?” the Prince enquired, eyes widening in incomprehension.

“Nothing, my Prince, you may go back to what you were doing”, she answered as she was already out of the room, the clattering of her heels dimming in the distance.

“This woman will be my death”, Tony sighed wearily when he found himself alone with Loki again.

 

The slave drew a fine smile, biting his inner cheek to contain a hiss of irritated apprehension.

“Everyone is bound to be the death of someone, I suppose”, he pretended to jest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been quite sick these past days, I hope it doesn't show too much in this chapter's quality ! Next chapters may take a little longer to arrive. Thank you all for reading me ! :D


	10. Into Your Grip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hidden gem can be found in this chapter, thanks to the lovely beta_cygni (@lunariagold on tumblr). <3

“Well that was fun”, Tony smiled widely as he mentally relived their long day into his labs, while escorting Loki back to his chambers, at dusk. From the wide windows that made all corridors look like endless art galleries, they could catch glimpses of bloody sun-rays, shining through swirls of grey smoke and thick, still clouds.

“I did enjoy this day very much, my Prince”, the slave smiled back, softly, while contemplating the ephemeral and subtle beauty of this somewhat repressed sunset. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ”, the Human replied. “I was growing quite desperate to find anyone interested and brilliant enough to share my genius with”, he grinned.

“I doubt I could ever be as smart as you are, my Master”, Loki chuckled slightly, his sight lowering at the princely engineer – whose height was, to put it politely, quite non-proportional to the greatness of his status and intelligence.

“You're being too humble; you know I'm not a man to judge vanity”, Tony joked while lightly shrugging. “I really do wonder how a man with a brain like yours could possibly agree to find himself reduced to a 'sole purpose', let alone this particular one”, he added after a few seconds of wavering reflexion.

He felt the Asgardian tense next to him, and immediately regretted his indelicate remark.

“I'm sorry”, he murmured before the dark-haired man could find an appropriate answer to his inappropriate comment. “I didn't mean to put it so roughly, I just- I'll be honest, I had hoped this day would make me forget how puzzling you are”, he confessed with a faint smile. “But I figure I just made it worse for me, really. My bad, entirely”, he quickly added, before Loki could get the idea of apologizing. “You're quite fascinating, you know”, he then stated. “And the more time I spend with you, the more eager I get to know everything there is to know about you.”

His steps slowed down, then stopped completely, as his eyes almost timidly tried to meet his companion's. But the taller man stubbornly kept his gaze down. Tony could clearly witness his Adam's apple dance up and down his blushing throat.

“I am honored, my Prince, to be of such interest in your eye”, he finally whispered.

“No you're not, you're embarrassed and probably a bit angry”, Tony refuted, shaking his head in a silent self-reproach. “I'm sorry”, he repeated to prevent the Asgardian from protesting. “Let's change the subject, okay ? Are you hungry ?”

Quite evidently startled by this stupendous turn of events, Loki allowed his lips to mutely part, then meet, then part again, as his lids fluttered in utter bewilderment. Nervously, maybe mechanically, he rolled up one of his sleeves and furtively scratched the reddish skin of his wrist. The Prince's head tilted sidewards.

“Hungry ?” he asked again, just before noticing the young man's repetitive gesture and obviously irritated skin. “Damn, that's some solid rash you've got here”, he winced as his hand reached for Loki's forearm.

The slave tensed yet again, before forcing himself into a nervous smile.

“It's nothing, my Prince, I am sure.”

“You're not used to this type of fabric”, Tony diagnosed with a nod. “I'm pretty sure your skin is burning all over, isn't it ?”

“I am fine, I assure you, my-”

“Hey, I'm not gonna be mad at you for having sensitive epidermis”, the Prince gently teased, his fingers slightly closing onto the flushing wrist. “Do these clothes make you feel uncomfortable, yes or no ?”

“... Yes.”

“Good”, Tony approved as he started walking again. “Now, you're gonna get rid of them, take a bath, and I'll find something more appropriate for you tomorrow, is that all right ?”

He turned around, only to raise an eyebrow as he noticed the Asgardian had not followed him. They were only a few meters away from his apartments' entrance, and yet Loki's face made it look like the distance was impossible to get through. The Prince frowned. What had he done wrong, _again_ ?

“Is that all right ?” he reiterated.

“Yes”, the slave immediately responded. “Yes, thank you.”

And he was already at the door, waiting for his Master to allow him in. Which Tony did, pensively.

“Do you know how the bathtub works ?” he inquired once he had taken off his jacket and negligently thrown it onto an armchair.

“I am afraid I do not”, Loki answered in a neutral, low voice, as he began to strip, slowly.

“I'll show you”, he offered after an irrepressible glance at the tender curves of his unveiled hips.

The Asgardian gave him a confused look as he walked by him without even the lightest attempt to touch him. He remained still for a second, with only his _briefs_ on, before swiftly grabbing his cloak and burying his shivering yet boiling flesh into it. Then, and only then, he followed his Master to the thermal room. Tony gazed at him with the faintest of smiles, and made a point of explaining the precise and intricate science of faucets and bath salts.

“This one should soothe the itching”, he very seriously asserted while pointing at a full bottle of violet, creamy, strongly scented _thing_.

“Thank you, my Prince”, Loki could not help but nervously laugh.

“I'll leave you to it, then”, Tony smiled after the glimpse of a hesitation. “I'll ask a servant to bring some food in.”

The slave graciously bent his neck to salute and thank his Prince's generosity. Thoughtfully, still wrapped up in his mantel, he raised a leg to dip the tip of his toes in the warm, perfumed water. He seemed- anxious. An impression that almost led Tony to ask him -again- if everything was fine, before the Asgardian cut him off and spontaneously expressed his concern:

“Will you be sleeping with me tonight, my Prince ?”

The said Prince froze onto the door threshold. He had not expected this question. He bit his inner lip.

“Do you want me to ?” he eventually whispered as he turned around for his sight to cross Loki's.

“I- I would like to thank my Mas- to thank _you_ for this pleasant day”, the foreigner explained, arduously, slowly.

Tony smiled, hardly hiding his enthusiastic willingness, then pursed his lips and faintly rocked his head from left to right.

“You don't have to.”

“But it would be my honor!” Loki protested, cheekbones blushing.

“Would it be your pleasure ?” the Prince immediately countered.

Silence fell upon the misty room. The slave clenched five fingers onto his cloak.

“You have been very kind to me, Prince Anthony”, he finally mouthed, head low. “You have treated me as your equal, you have given me far more than I could hope for, and far more than you might think you have. You have called me your friend, today. I would never have the pretentiousness of calling myself that, nor your equal, but- but if it is the way _you_ ought to see me, to think of me- Would you not let a friend, an equal, thank you the best way he can ?”

In the pensive muteness that followed this thorny question, Tony could not help but draw a small grin. A clever little creature, he was.

And who was _he_ to pretend he could resist any longer ?

“Enjoy your bath”, he finally whispered. “I'll meet you in the bedroom.”

 

As he watched the Prince walk away and partly close the door behind him, Loki shut his eyes, and let out a shaky sigh.

There they were.

It was for the better, he tried to convince himself as he stripped from all covering fabric, and dived into the hot, foamy waters that awaited his aching skin.

Of course the Human was conveniently intrigued by him, of course he enjoyed his company for reasons he really had not expected, of course he was puzzlingly gentle, and maybe Loki did not have to _do it_ in order to secure his grip on him, but it was not a risk he was willing to take.

Thor would be there in two days. He needed to possess the Prince, _entirely_. He needed him on his side.

And he would have him. Whatever the cost.

 

He gave himself a quarter of an hour to heal his burning skin and mentally prepare for what was to come. Then he left the dampening water, dried his flesh and hair thoroughly, and met his reflection in the vast, foggy mirror. He pinched his cheeks and bit his lips to give them more color. He brushed his curls until they were as smooth as a dove's down, as shiny as a raven's wing. He swallowed his pride.

He was ready.

 

Tony was waiting on the edge of the bed. Still fully clothed, he had barely nibbled at some of the plates a servant had brought in, a few minutes earlier. It was not this hunger he suffered from.

The swish of slow footsteps on the mellow carpet brought a glow to his broadening pupils. Chin up, he allowed his gaze to run from head to toe onto his lover-to-be's pale complexion.

The shine of a golden ring caught his eye, as he was about to stand up.

“What is this ?” he whispered. “You were wearing it when we first met.”

“And I have been wearing it ever since, my Prince”, Loki answered in a voice as low as his eyes, after two seconds of surprised silence.

“You've never taken it off ?” Tony frowned.

“I had- Well, I had first thought it would displease you. It is a- a way to remind all, and myself, that my first and most important task is to pleasure my Master, first Thor, now- you”, he stuttered, cheeks red with shame.

“It's not your 'most important task' anymore, Loki”, the Prince cautiously reminded him, before he raised both eyebrows in astonishment. “You mean you never- you never felt pleasure in return ?” he murmured. “ _Never_ ?”

The abashed glance that the Asgardian gave him nailed him to the bed with shock.

“Come here”, he finally demanded, hand reaching out for his.

Loki marked a clear hesitation, before he mutely obliged, abandoning his fingers into the Prince's palm.

“Sit”, Tony gently asked as he pulled him closer, leading him to make a seat of his lap.

By the moment they were face to face, the slave had turned from white to crimson.

“Loki”, the Human whispered, his thumb and index finger finding their way below his chin. “Have you ever felt pleasure ?”

He blushed yet again, then shook his head.

“Don't you want to ?” Tony mouthed after an irresolute moment of reflexion.

“I do not know”, he groaned in discomfort, tilting his head in unclear signs.

_No, I do not, I do not- Take what you must and leave me alone._

“Would you let me try ?”

“I- I am the one who ought to please you.”

“It would please me to please you, Loki”, the Prince faintly smiled, lips dancing a millimeter away from his.

_No it would not. You simply wish for a hole to fuck into. Quit lying. I do not want to feel pleasure, and you have no right to make me surrender in such a w-_

“The ring hurts”, he confessed before he could think.

“I'll take it off”, Tony simply answered. “There'll be no pain, I promise.”

 

And pain there was not. Slowly, gently, the Midgardian wrapped his hand around Loki's soft and aching cock. His mouth took possession of his, with an eager sweetness he was not used to -at all. He kissed him the way Loki had seen Asgardian lovers kiss their mistresses, hidden in the gardens of the Palace -the way Thor never had kissed him, because he was too busy catching his breath to dig in him deeper, harder. Prince Anthony was passionate yet patient. He freed his lips only to wrap them into his hot, perfumed breath, and offer him what seemed to be a comforting smile, as he progressively worked the heavy ring out of his designated place. The metallic friction on his sensitive shaft was uneasy, but soothed by the soft, warm touch of the Human's obviously expert fingers.

Never had he been touched in such a way.

He let out a confused whimper.

“Everything all right ?” Tony mouthed against his cheek, as he kissed its burning skin, all the way to his jawline.

“I- I believe so.”

“Good. Don't be afraid to stop me.”

“Would you- Would you stop ?” he could not help but ask, utterly astounded.

“The minute you tell me something is wrong”, he confirmed.

_Do not believe him. Do not let him get to you. He will not possess you. You are to possess hi-_

“Thank yo-ow”, he moaned when Tony finished taking the ring off, the tip of his thumb faintly teasing at the head of his cock.

“You're very welcome”, the Prince smiled into his ear, smoothly biting at it before tracing a trail of wet kisses onto his neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh that covered his carotid.

Loki weakly gasped, a shiver of confused lust finding its source at the back of his head, sending a delicious tingle down his spine, all the way to his lower stomach, which suddenly felt like boiling lava.

Tony's smile widened, and he carefully brought both hands to his partner's thighs, pulling him closer and closer, until his slowly hardening cock was pressed against his own crotch. He buried his nose in the nest of his shuddering shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of his satin hair, as his hips moved in gentle waves, his still covered shaft rubbing against Loki's flushing one. In the erratic concert of their already short breaths, his hands swished onto his flesh, running from his thighs to his round, firm cheeks.

“Does it feel good ?” he inquired as he felt Loki tense a little.

“Y-Yes, my Prince”, the slave admitted in a low cry, before biting his lip and hiding his blushing face into Tony's chest. “I may be wearing another- ornament- that could- displease you”, he panted against his shirt.

“Ornament ?” Anthony frowned, his hands freezing on him.

“In-Inside”, he whispered, shamefully. “It is meant to- to keep me ready for you. I will take it out”, he swiftly decided.

Before the Prince could understand, Loki brought the hand he had instinctively clenched around the sheets to his leaking hole, and let out a stifled whimper as he slowly pulled the oiled widener out of him. He let it fall to the ground, eyes shut, a tear of desperate want and shame rolling down his cheek.

“Oh, Loki-” Tony murmured, his gaze fixed on the incriminated object, which had rolled all the way to the sofa. “No more”, he promised when the shining of his partner's tear in the night lights caught his gaze. “I swear.”

“You- Are you not angry ?”

“Maybe”, Tony lightly sighed as he ran his fingers through the dark, silky curls, one thumb chasing away the salty drop that trembled on Loki's chin. “But not at you.”

“Anger is not- not much of an exciting factor, I am s-sorry”, the Asgardian attempted to jest, already trying to get away from his embrace, and from his own desire.

“No- Loki”, he pleaded, “please, let me.”

_Do not let him. Do not let him. Do not let him._

“Yes, my Prince.”

 

Tony smiled -ever so gently. His lips drew a mute thank you, before they gave all their attention to his, kissing them, nibbling at them, softly. His tongue carefully asked for permission against his front teeth, and Loki gasped in confusion, allowing the warm muscle to meet his own, as the Prince turned around to lay him on his back, thighs apart, clenched around his waist. In a last attempt to control at least a minuscule part of the situation, the Asgardian pulled his partner's shirt up, leading Tony to laugh smoothly and kiss him yet again, melting down all that remained of his poor resistance.

Soon, they were both stark naked, and Tony was mercilessly stroking his virgin cock in slow, patient moves, as his kisses left his mouth to free his whimpers and assail the shivering flesh of his bare chest. Loki writhed under him, biting at his own fist to muffle the confession of his mad, growing urges.

“I should- I am the one who should be doing this”, he vaguely tried to object when the Prince's lips reached the hard rosebud of his nipple.

“Do you mean you don't enjoy it ?” Tony worried with a small, playful pout, clearly knowing what his lover's answer would be, as he rolled his nipple between the pulp of two fingers, causing Loki to quiver under him.

“No”, he moaned, and the Prince was already pursuing his patient road of kisses and hickies, both hands on his partner's hips as he reached his lower belly, onto which his now fully awake cock rested, twitching in want and slightly leaking of precum.

“No what ?” he whispered gently, laying a full circle of kisses on his stomach, all around his red tip, cautiously avoiding it, waiting for his lover's full, clear consent.

“No, it is- ha- not that I do no enjoy it”, Loki panted, eyes closed and fingers tightening on the sheets.

“Better”, he softly grinned, his breath swirling against his shaft before he gratified it with a kiss, then a lick, from base to head.

“Oh- Norns ! _Norns_ !”

“Sensitive, huh ?” he kindly taunted, allowing Loki's hips to twist and tremble in unexpected pleasure.

His hands slid to his thighs, making them part a bit more as his tongue licked him down, teasing at his balls, before he firmly pressed his lips against his perineum.

“M-My Prince, _please_ ”, Loki cried, eyes wide open in shocked ecstasy, forsaking all self-restraint and clenching a hand in Tony's hair, “I cannot, I will not-”

“What do you want ?” he sweetly murmured against his skin, one finger teasing at the tip of his cock, expanding a drop of precum into a thin, flickering yarn.

“I want-”

“Hmh ?” he smiled as his lower lip lightly caressed the spasming flesh of the Asgardian's dripping, stretched hole.

“I- ah !- I want to feel p-pleasure !”

“Don't you already feel pleasure ?” Tony pouted anew, nibbling at his inner thigh while he softly dived a phalanx in him.

“Y-Yes”, Loki desperately moaned, his whole body tensing at the intrusion, yet incapable of _not_ _wanting it_. “M-More, _please_ !”

“More where, more how ?” the Human whispered, nudging his finger deeper in his lover's clenching ass, starting to tease at his walls. “I want to know exactly how to pleasure you”, he specified with an innocent smile, gazing up to the hot mess that he had brought Loki to be.

“M-More he-aah !” Loki barely contained a scream as Tony's finger hit his prostate, this little ball of pure delight he had never been given the chance, nor had ever wanted to fully exploit before -but now... “Oh, oh, Norns, _Norns_ , _here_ !” he cried out, shamelessly, oblivious of the sole meaning of shame.

“Got you”, the Prince tenderly purred, as he pulled out his finger, hushed his partner's moan of protestation in a burning kiss and grabbed his cheeks, spreading and lifting them for Loki's hole to meet his throbbing cock. “Hold on to me”, he whispered into his ear, before entering him in one slow, precise thrust.

Their groans mingled in the silent room, as Loki closed both arms and legs around the Human's boiling body. They moaned and sighed, hissed and gasped, as Tony pumped in and out of the Asgardian, aiming at his soft spot again and again, always feverish but never brutal, hands holding him or stroking his rock hard cock, lips kissing his or whispering playful, promising, gentle words into his ear, endlessly, restlessly, until, soon enough, he felt his partner clench around him, and come through his fingers in a long, hoarse cry.

“It- It was my p-pleasure”, Loki then managed to stammer in an incredulous, trembling smile, his breath still on the run.

Tony let out a panting laugh, before growling his orgasm against his lover's neck, as he emptied himself deep inside of him.


	11. The Crooked Man

Loki was both angry and troubled. Angry at himself, for giving in so shamefully. Angry at the Prince, for his disgusting abuse of power – what was his play ? He pretended he would never force him into anything, and there he was, deviously taking down his defenses, using his pain to make him confuse relief and pleasure, pushing him into betraying himself and _enjoying_ being the obedient, helpless, whory little pet he had sworn to never become.

He contained a queasy groan, eyes closing and jaw clenching.

And yet- He was troubled. Because, in the hazy warmth of the moment, he had never felt coerced, in any way. Despite the initial, weak resistance of his stubborn mind, he had ultimately willingly, even _gladly_ , abandoned himself into the caring, exhilarating attentions of the Midgardian. He had decided to trust Anthony, entirely.

He thought high enough of his own being to strongly believe that, if the Prince had had any malicious intents, he, Loki, would have detected them, and would have found a way to escape the Human's grip.

His grip.

His tired eyes lowered at the sleepy silhouette of the man he had planned to subjugate, and had ended up being subjugated by.

Frustrating, indeed. It felt like, for an infinitesimal instant, in the shadows of the night, he had forgotten all about who he was – an already very limited knowledge –, what he had suffered, and why he should not, ever, allow someone so intimately deep. He had become another Loki. A Loki who was still beating, somewhere inside of his chest, making him feel pleasantly dizzy, and leading him to smile, for the fraction of a second.

Was that what pleasure was all about ? Did it change people ? Would it change him lastingly ?

He was afraid, and content, and upset, and hesitant.

He had a plan; a very clear one. He could not allow his own shameful weaknesses to sabotage it, could he ?

But in the end, where did the difference lay ? He needed the Prince to fall under his influence, fully. He needed to have him eating into his palm, without him even noticing it. He needed him to be madly attached to his puny creature from outer space.

He had first thought being obedient would do the trick. But obviously, it was not the way the Midgardian functioned.

Maybe the best way to reach his goal was to make him feel like he, poor little Loki, desperately needed someone to protect him, understand him, listen to him, care for him, _love_ him.

A degrading process, yes. But far less degrading than the show he had had to put on for Thor.

_Oh, Thor. One day, when the perfect time comes, I will tell my dear, dear Anthony all the horrors you put me through, he will take you down before my eyes, and then I will flee, free, into the depths of Yggdrasil, leaving only chaos behind me, carried by the wings of my Human's improbable science._

His smile widened. Yes. A very clear, very perfect plan.

“Good morning, my Prince”, he purred as the Midgardian sluggishly blinked.

“Hm- 'Morning”, Tony smiled when his mind fully reached conscience again, and he remembered all of their nightly encounter.

The Prince stretched in a muffled groan of satisfaction, and brought his still numb body to sit onto the mattress, allowing the flowing fabric of the sheets to slide from his chest to his thighs, non-modestly unveiling his full nudity. Loki bit his inner lip, as the memories of his own ecstasy brought a reddish glow to his cheekbones.

“How do you feel ?” the Human enquired, lightly chuckling as he noticed his partner's embarrassment.

“Very well”, Loki mouthed, trying to subtly hide his awkwardness behind the messy curtain of his hair. “Thank you”, he added, shyly, as he lifted his gaze up. “I had never felt this way before.”

“It was my pleasure”, Anthony winked at him, running a hand through his curls as he laid a kiss on his lips. “You look genuinely happy, I'm glad”, he whispered after a second of silent observation. “I wouldn't want you to fake well-being”, he explained before kissing him again, and again, a game of faint touches Loki tried his best to find amusement and pleasure into, as he smiled and timidly brought a hand onto the Prince's neck.

“Majesty ?” the disembodied voice in the walls interrupted them.

“Hm”, the Human grunted, “JARVIS, what did I tell you about privacy ?” he sighed, regretfully leaving Loki's soft flesh.

“I am sorry, Your Highness”, the artificial intelligence apologized without one sign of sincere remorse. “Duchess Virginia wishes to advise you that the grievances session will begin shortly, and that it might be unwise from the future King to arrive late.”

“I'm pretty sure she didn't put it that way”, Tony grinned as he stretched yet again, making his spine snap multiple times, as well as his knuckles. “Tell her I'll be there soon”, he then surrendered, before laying another set of kisses onto his lover's fresh skin, causing the Asgardian to let out an unintentional laugh.

Well. Appartenly, he was ticklish. The human raised an amused eyebrow.

“I'll make a note of that”, he purred into his ear, giving him one last nibble before exiting the bed. “I would invite you to witness this session”, he pursued as he picked up his clothes from the multiple spots he had carelessly thrown them to, the night before, “but I'm afraid you'd find it as boring as I do”, he winced. “I'll have some hypoallergenic clothes sent in for you, though, and if you want, you'll be allowed to join me for the gift session. This one's a lot more fun: I'll open presents from people who want me to give them important positions or something.”

“It does seem quite amusing”, Loki smiled as he watched the Prince dress up, cautiously memorizing the way he got himself into the strange garments, wishing quite dearly to be able to put his own clothes on by himself, later.

“I'll see you there, then”, Tony enthusiastically concluded, buckling up his belt and leaning over to kiss his cheek – a sweet touch Loki had yet to experiment, and which he received with a surprised gaze to the Prince. “Be careful”, the latter added after a few seconds of silence. “The closer we'll be, you and I, the more people will want you taken down”, he murmured, eyes low. “And if- if they all have the possibility to hire a bloody sorcerer-”

“Don't you worry, my Prince”, Loki reassured him with a gentle smile. “You know I can defend myself.”

“Yeah. You can”, he tried to comfort himself. “I'll find out who this guy was, and why he did this. You'll be safe”, he promised with a nod, before leaving in hasty footsteps.

Loki looked at the closing door, pensively. Safe. What a strange concept.

***

Led to the throne hall by a placid guard, Loki was more nervous than he would ever be inclined to confess.

Duchess Virginia arched an eyebrow as she saw him walk in. Anthony being busy thanking a rich merchant who had offered him the most expensive silk samples he possessed, she subtly gave him permission to stand next to her and observe the conference. Still a bit uncomfortable in his pants, long shirt and rigid boots, he tried not to think of the inquisitive looks that followed his steps as he rejoined her, nodding at the Prince when the latter glanced in his direction. Thanking the Prime Minister with a shy smile, he took place beside her, silently observing the gracious folds of her delicate yet practical gown. She was dressed like a Queen – a governing Queen. He wondered. Was she meant to ever unite her destiny to the Prince's ? He could not see her becoming a simple consort. Besides, the Prince did not seem interested in her – not in this way, at least. She was not a threat to his physical control over Anthony, then. A reason more for him to like her. After all, she too had shown sincere concern for him.

He could never perceive her as an ally, unfortunately. Quite obviously, she was all about diplomacy. She would never allow her Prince to break a good relationship with Thor and his Realm.

A shame, really, he thought as two servants brought in a wide, rectangular item, still covered in a heavily ornamented wrapping paper.

“Unveil !”, the Prince smiled while briefly clapping his hands.

The two men quickly obliged.

A horrified gasp gushed out the Duchess' lips. Tony's smile melted, as his skin turned to a greenish tone of white.

The heavy piece of wood was painted in a restricted palette of browns, blacks, blues, touches of blinding white and streaks of deep red. Angry brush strokes had drawn two dark peaks under the heavy curls of a furious, cloudy sky. The Vibranium mines spurted out their trails of black smoke, covering contorted, skeletal bodies in oppressive shadows. The background was a clutter of wooden scaffolds, bending backs and weak arms hopelessly carrying pieces of brutally shining metal.

The foreground- Loki swallowed uneasily. The foreground was fully occupied by the cadaveric figure of a naked man, tied with rusty chains to the chariot he had to pull, flesh bluish with bruises and untreated wounds. Small pieces of shining Vibranium pierced his skin from head to toe, giving him the appearance of a thorny, dying rose. His left knee was bent in the most unnatural way, and the tension of his dry muscles showed his desperate attempts to lay his whole weight onto his valid leg, as the dark shadow of a man in armor seemed to inexorably approach, fist up in the air, set to strike.

The man's expression, turned to the invisible menace, was one of pure terror. He seemed rather young, yet his hair and brows, whitened in fear, had mostly fallen off. His eyes, glowing with painful tears, were wide open, half-way out of their orbits, screaming the supplications his snatched teeth and teared lips could not form.

The word MURDERER was engraved into the skin of his forehead.

 

“Take it away !” the Duchess almost screamed, livid, as the Prince ran off, one hand pressed against his lips.

Loki, who had looked away as soon as the morbid fascination of the horrific painting had loosened its grip on him, hesitated for an instant, before following his Master.

In the water room that adjoined the throne hall, Tony was violently throwing up his breakfast, face covered in cold perspiration, pupils wide in shock.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ?!” he yelled to the wall, unaware of Loki's presence.

The Asgardian tensed, and stepped back. The Prime Minister soon joined them, still dangerously pale, hands wringing in nervousness.

“A very bad joke, I presume”, she murmured as the Prince angrily stood back up and buried his face into splashes of glacial water.

“A _joke_ ?” he hissed, hands shaking. “A personal attack, that's what it was ! I want the fucking maniac who made this found and locked up in the Tower's cells, is that clear ?!”

“It goes without saying, Tony”, she whispered, and yet Loki felt a tension in her he had not witnessed before. He lightly narrowed his sight at her, intrigued.

Also, she had called him Tony. They were closer than he had expected – not lovers, but at least good friends. Maybe she was somewhat of a threat, in the end. He gritted his teeth, despite pushing himself to a side in order to let her reach the Prince and run a wet tissue onto his temples.

“I'm through with mysteries”, the future King growled in a low voice, eyes shut. “I want all of them solved. The magician, the painting, everything. I want it all solved.”

“Yes, Tony. I'll take care of it”, she patiently agreed.

“Why would someone do that ?” he murmured, almost in a weep, before tensing and frowning as he darted his gaze into hers. “Don't answer that.”

“I didn't say anything”, she protested. “No matter who did that and what are their- their opinion on the matter, they had no right to force us into this sight.”

“You think the same as them, don't you ?” he hissed, a sudden glow of hurt and distrust in the eye. “You always have.”

“No ! Tony, you're in a state of shock, you need to rest; let me take care of this, please”, she insisted, frowning in worry.

“I never wanted this, I never asked for this, I- It _can't_ be true !” he kept on defending himself, shaking his head frantically.

“Tony”, she said, firmly, her hands on his shoulders. “Loki will escort you to your rooms, and you will rest. It's not an option.”

 

And so they did, after much dithering from a haggard, still shaking Prince. Loki was puzzled. He had recognized the mines, of course. He had understood the main message of the painting, which was far from subtle. He had been a close witness of Anthony's deep upheaval, and almost mad denial. A denial he kept on whispering to himself:

“I didn't want this, I didn't want this, I didn't want this-”

Just when Loki was about to break his incomprehension to him, Tony stopped, faced him, and grabbed his hands, eyes filled with fear, and horror, and doubt.

“I'm not like that. I'd never want that, you have to believe me”, he almost begged him, causing him to blink a dozen times, utterly shocked.

“I- I am sure this is not a crime you would allow, my Prince”, he whispered.

“No ! I- I wouldn't, never”, he promptly stuttered, tilting his head from left to right. “But I- I don't know for sure what's going on in those mines, Loki, I've _never_ been there, my father didn't want me to, and- Some of the workers there, they're prisoners, criminals. The mines are their prison, their penitentiary; it was my father's decision”, he confessed in a hasty, ashamed whisper, yet still desperately trying to shake the blame off his shoulders.

“They are- slaves”, Loki slowly concluded, a hand of ice painfully closing around his heart, as he felt helplessly- betrayed.

“No ! No, criminals. It's their punishment !” the Prince hopelessly denied, his head shaking so hard Loki thought for a moment it would take off. “It was my father's decision, and I never- I never thought he would die so soon, I thought, by the time I'd become King, their work there would be done, and I could free them, or put them somewhere else, but- but my father died, and I- I _need_ the work they're doing there, Loki, I need the Vibranium-”

“For your invention”, the slave deduced after a second of muteness, in a neutral voice.

“Yes ! You've seen how important it is to me, right ? I- I swore I would free them from the mines when it would be done- Soon ! I'm sure it'll be soon, I only need a few more pieces, and then-”

“You will free them.”

“Yes ! That's the plan. That was the plan. But now-” He shuddered in true horror, his voice almost breaking. “What if it were true ? The painting ? Huh ? What if the guards, and the inspectors, and the other workers- what if they lied to me ? Everybody lies, _everybody_ ! If this man on the painting is- is real, if they're treated like that, I- I'll never forgive m-myself..”

The Asgardian remained still and silent for the next few seconds, his mind racing at dizzying pace, the coldness he had previously made a point of maintaining slowly melting into a boiling mess of mixed feelings. _Betrayed_ ; why did he feel betrayed ? Had he been stupid enough to expect anything more from the Prince than becoming the perfect instrument of his revenge ? Had he been blind to the point of thinking he could, one day, allow Anthony to be a friend ? Of course he was a selfish bastard, _he was a Prince_.

Betrayal aside, Loki felt hesitant.

What was he to say ? Should he comfort the madman he had in front of him ? Should he pretend to have no opinion on the matter ?

“Nothing says the painting is a depiction of reality, my Prince”, he finally whispered, choosing the first option. “I am certain Lady Virginia will make a duty of seeking the truth. Then, and only then, it will be time to worry about the fate of those criminals. Do you not agree ?”

Tony, who was still breathing heavily and clenching his hands around the Asgardian's, suddenly relaxed, the phantom of a relieved smile finding its way on his lips.

“Yes”, he simply agreed.

Loki smiled too, and kept on escorting the Prince back to his chambers, as he held back a wince of judgement.

Anthony of Midgard was a spoiled child, who only needed the glimpse of an approval to chase away all form of remorse, and rock himself in the certitude that he was doing well, or at least no as bad as his conscience could lead him to think, in those unbearable moments of doubt and anguish.

And he, Loki, needed this man. Pitiful.

He had no particular feelings for the men in the mines. His only common thread with them was his slavery, and even then, they were very different. They had deserved their fate. He strongly believed he had not.

But, if it had not been for their utility in the construction of the Prince's impossible hole through the skies, he would have found exquisite delight in the idea of freeing them, and spread a bit of chaos into the weak hearts of Earthlings.

Too bad.

 

He played his part well. As he put the Prince to bed, he shyly faked a few scared tears, pretending the sight of the painting had scared the Norns out of him. He allowed the Midgardian to wrap his arms around him – obviously, comforting him made the Prince feel like a better man; like a man, period.

Once the Human had fallen asleep, he carefully got himself out of his embrace, and silently left the room.

 

Duchess Virginia would most certainly give him very valuable information, intentionally or not.


	12. The Crooked Woman

Lady Virginia was scared and angry, Loki could tell from the way she looked at her hostess, as she walked into the low, gloomy house.

After having left Tony's apartments, he had quickly started looking for the Prime Minister, in hope of an instructive discussion. She had given him even better, by leaving the Tower in quite a suspicious way. Why on Earth would the Prime Magistrate of the State need to use a back door to leave a Palace that was as much hers than her Prince's, unless she had something to hide ?

He had followed her, of course. He was free, Anthony had repeated it quite insistently; it was about time he used this unusual latitude.

He had remained discreet, nonetheless, tracing her silently and from afar, with the feline subtlety he had acquired after years of desperate longing for invisibility. Wearing one of the sober sets of clothes the Prince had offered him, head covered in a thick hood, he had carefully blended himself into the dense, noisy crowd that permanently flowed the streets.

And there he was, on top of that unnatural, naked hill, pressed against the bricks of a bold, solid wall, eyes and ears wide open next to a closed window and a faintly parted curtain.

His audition being as – if not more – impressive as his strength and healing aptitudes, he only needed to set aside all the undesirable sounds that surrounded the house and slightly force his concentration, in order to fully hear the very interesting conversation he knew was about to be conducted.

***

“He's dying, Pepper”, Sinna whispered before her sister could even find where to begin.

The Prime Minister remained silent for a whole minute, lids fluttering in both astonishment and hesitation.

“I saw him, he's dying”, the elder hissed, twisting her hands in furious nervousness.

Her fingers were still stained with brown and red paint.

“I'm sorry, Sinna”, Virginia ultimately murmured, her sight fixed onto the obvious proof of her sibling's guilt.

“No, you're not !” she exploded, eyes bright with enraged tears. “You don't care ! You never liked Horace in the first place, you were way too happy to have him sent away from me for a murder he had no part into, and-”

“Sinna Prometh”, the magistrate growled, hands tightening in shaking fists, “don't blame me for the decisions of another. I will not tolerate it. Not anymore.”

“Tolerate ?” her sister repeated incredulously. “Do- Do you hear yourself ? My husband is dying ! DYING !”

“And how is it MY fault ?!”

“You promised you'd free him ! You PROMISED !”

“Two days ago, Sinna, two FREAKING days ! I can't change the world in forty-eight hours !”

“Well MY world just collapsed, Virginia !” Sinna yelled out, one palm hitting her chest in a painful slap. “I'm done waiting for your little power plays ! I'm taking action !”

“By sending horrors to the Tower as present for the Future King ?!” the younger woman inquired, her sight narrowing at her sibling with shocked worry. “Do you have any idea how serious this is ? Do you know what you're risking ?”

“Oh, I know what _you're_ risking. Hm ? Cause that's all _you_ care about ! _Your_ position next to _your_ precious little Prince. He's a monster, Pepper ! Just like his father !”

“His father lost his _wife_ in a terrorist attack Horace was proved to be a part of, Sinna ! He was _destroyed_ ! And from destruction comes hate. You should be the first to know that”, she added in a whisper.

“What's that supposed to mean ?” the oldest aggressively asked, her whole body tense with uncontrollable anger.

“You've become the most hateful woman I know, Sinna”, Pepper retorted, sorrow breaking her voice as she continued: “It tears me apart to see you like this.”

“No, it tears you apart to find yourself stuck between me and your lovely Tony”, Lady Prometh denied with a dismissive wince.

“I LOVE YOU !” she cried out, in a desperate attempt to cover the sound of her sibling's destructive disdain. “How can you not understand ? You're my sister, I love you, I-”

“Will you help me ?” Sinna harshly cut her off, arms crossed and spine steep.

“Why do you think I'm here ?” Pepper murmured, hopeless. “To have you arrested, like Tony wanted ? Where are the guards, Sinna ? Where are the cuffs and the chains ? Why would I be here, if not to help you ?”

“Oh, I know you far too well, little sister. The help I want and the help you're offering are two very different things. You'll still want to save appearances, won't you ? Your plan will be all smooth and clean; you'll twist words so you can hide the truth without really lying, you'll have your Prince content and my life safe. I'm done with compromises, Pepper. You want to help me ? Fine. I'll ask you to go down with me. But you won't, will you ?”

The Duchess felt a fist of ice crush her lungs into shreds, leaving her breathless as she realized-

“Is this an ultimatum, Sinna ?”

“It is a choice, Virginia”, the elder answered, plainly. “Show me your love by following me to hell , and you and I will be sisters again. Fake your affection by trying to give me a paradise I don't want, and you and I will be enemies.”

Silence let his suffocating curtain fall between the two women. Virginia forced her lips into immobility, when all she wished was to let out her screams.

“You're scaring the life out of me”, she finally whispered, eyes filled with burning waters. “W-What are you planning ?”

“You made your choice, I believe”, Sinna coldly answered. “You and I have nothing to share anymore. I will ask you to leave.”

“Sinna, please, I beg you”, she cried out, stepping closer in a desperate attempt to hold her sister into her arms, “don't- whatever it is you're planning, don't- you'll only-”

“Leave, Pepper”, the older one ordered as she backed off, hand reaching for the knife she had hidden into the folds of her gown. “If you don't want to become my first true crime.”

***

Loki swiftly pressed his back against the wall, containing his breath as he heard the door opening and the irregular steps of the Prime Minister leaving the now silent house. The Duchess almost inspired him empathy, as she buried her livid face into her hands and let out a barely stifled sob, shoulders shaking in despair. He tilted his head, and took a quick look inside the manor. Sinna Prometh was standing still, her body facing the door, her chest frantically beating up and down, her fingers clenching around the handle of the sharp knife.

Dramatic indeed, he thought to himself with a glimpse of dark amusement.

He could not risk being compassionate now, really. He had to keep a very, very cold head.

However, he could not help but admire the impressive pace at which the Duchess recovered her lost composure. He made himself as thin and silent as possible, as she looked back to the door one last time, before closing both hands in tight fists, and finally leaving.

Once she was out of sight, he allowed himself a sigh, and patiently drew his battle plan.

Sinna Prometh was quite the madwoman. And she obviously had various reasons to interfere with his own schemes, knowingly or not.

That, he could not let happen.

He let out a new sigh, gazed down at his hands. Well. She would only be his second – on Midgard.

But first, he needed to know.

 

He waited ten minutes. Then he knocked, and kept himself ready. She seemed insane enough to attack him at the outset.

She did not. She made him wait five more minutes. He noticed a movement at the window, implying she knew he was there.

Was she afraid ?

She certainly did not let it show. She opened the door in a slow, regular motion. Her visage showed no expression whatsoever. Oh, she could be so very dangerous. _From destruction comes hate_. _He_ was the first to know this. The duchess could not have put it any better.

“I am Loki, the Prince's slave”, he declared in the most neutral voice. “I apologize for my intrusiveness, but recent events have made it known to me that you, my Lady, and I share quite similar desires of revenge. I would be glad to offer you my help, if said help should be needed”, he concluded with a light smile, as he bowed in front of her.

Obviously, he had played onto her sensitive string.

“Loki, yes”, she murmured after a few seconds of surprised silence. “I am glad you found a way to escape the Tower”, she added, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“ _Their_ minds have reduced me to a body, my Lady; they evidently have forgotten I could still own thoughts of my own, and clever ones, too”, he whispered.

“The Court is very keen on losing all consideration for beings they believe do not deserve it”, she stated coldly, with a bizarre yet encouraging hint of jubilation. “Please, come in, Loki.”

She stood aside to allow him into what seemed to be a living room. He took a swift look around. No trace of the weapon she had drawn a few minutes earlier, against her own sister. Caution was heavily advised. If she had half the wit of her sibling, she could very well be luring him into a trap. After all, he was as dangerous to her as she was to him.

“You must be very, very smart indeed”, she incidentally pursued as she silently locked the door. “Only my sister has been the direct confidant of my grievances. Were you a spy, before being forced into you present position, Loki ?” she enquired, quite directly.

“I do not know who I were, my Lady”, he smiled slightly, “but it could be an interesting track to follow, I suppose.”

“Interesting is the word”, she purred, gazing at him from head to toe before moving on to her kitchen. “Tea ?” she offered.

“With pleasure”, he accepted, eyes piercing through the half-lighted room to observe its heavy, dark configuration. Three portraits on the wall caught his full attention, leading him to freeze suddenly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Lady Prometh. A man. And, in between, the magician. _Light of hair and dark of eyes_.

As his mind raced yet again, he forced himself into a neutral appearance and met the woman next to the table she had served tea onto.

She knew him. He knew her. He had been portrayed by her, and his face was hanging on her wall, next to her and a man who most certainly was her husband. Could it be ? No, it could not. He glanced at her. She was Human. She was the Duchess' sister, she was Human. The Magician _could not_ be Human. But he was family. Friend ? Servant ? A woman who hated so deeply slavery could not use a servant, could she ? So a friend. A child. There was a strange tenderness in the way she had painted him – and now he wondered how he, Loki, could still recognize tenderness, after so many years...

An adopted child, yes, it seemed a logical conclusion.

It could not be a coincidence, could it ? He felt his insides shake as he remembered the night the sorcerer attempted to kill him, the night he, Loki, ended his life to save his own, and to let out his hate on _someone_. Hate. There was no hate in the magician's eyes. No death desire. He did not want to assassinate this _poor slave_ , it was not his deepest wish. And he seemed so afraid, when he felt his own end come to him- He was not a killer. He did not enjoy killing, nor did he want revenge on him, for any obscure reason, hidden into his forgotten past.

He had been used. He had been ordered to do what he had done – what he had tried to do.

Of course he had been.

Oh, Loki, stupid, stupid Loki. It was so _simple_.

Someone had asked the sorcerer to eliminate the man who maybe, eventually, potentially, could have become Anthony's consort. Someone had wished him dead, in order to achieve, or keep, power over the Prince, over the Crown, over the Realm. Anthony had warned him, so many times, directly or not. His concubines were never safe, in his bed, in his chambers, in his Tower. They held a golden key to the throne, and no decent power-greedy courtier could allow such heresy, was that not right ?

Maybe the magician had killed them all. That too, the future King had deduced.

Loki did not enjoy the idea of Anthony being as clever as him, but only the thought of what it all could mean led him to pure wrath, as he painfully tried to act innocently, under the eye of this- this-

Murderess.

Yes. _Yes_.

Virginia. Sinna. _Power plays_.

He smiled through his fury.

Oh, the _mischief_. If he had not hated her so much, he would have considered her his equal.

 

Sinna Prometh had had her husband taken away from her. She had slipped into madness, her only light being the hope that her little sister, sweet, loving little sister, would have enough influence onto the late King, and his idiotic son, to have her criminal lover liberated. Oh. _Oh_. And it only got better, did it not ? She had used her little alien friend, or son, or who cared – she had used him to eradicate all potential threat to her sibling's influence on the Prince. Her, the slave defender, had _used_ a man – a child ? – she pretended to care for, to kill all of Anthony's lovers, and make sure Virginia would be the only one he would ever listen to. Oh, oh the _irony_ !

And now, without him, who had died because of her, and with her husband withering into the mines, she could not keep on waiting, could she ? She needed to sully her own hands, for once. In paint, first, and then-

What was her plan ? Blood would flow, yes, it would. But whose ?

Well. If he had a say on the matter, and he believed he did-

It would be hers.

She was a menace, and he wanted revenge. He did not need further information.

He drew a thanking smile, and accepted the cup she was handing him.

Then he brutally smashed the curved porcelain into the table, keeping in hand only one sharp piece.

Her shocked scream died with her, when he jumped over the table and slit her throat in a sole, precise move.

Eyes cold and muscles tense, he kept her body from falling to the ground and gently sat her on a chair.

Patiently, yet quickly, he cleared the mess he had made and erased all trace of his presence in the house. He washed the intact cup – the one she had served to herself – and stored it back into the right cupboard. He cautiously disposed the broken pieces next to her, leaving the bloody one under her lifeless hand.

He left, and ran back to the Tower, invisible as he knew how to be.

Poor, mad Sinna Prometh had killed herself in a moment of pure despair.


	13. Setting The Stage

The night was still young when Loki finally sneaked into his room, slow, silent and sure as the shadows he had blended himself into. He was quite confident he had not been seen. From his very first day in the Midgardian Palace, he had memorized the way every single security watch was planned and led. His only uncertainties were linked to the strange devices called _cameras_ that could be found in worrying numbers, hidden into most of the Tower's ceilings.

But then again, he was free. Even if he was to be witnessed on those _cameras_ ' recordings, who could blame him for taking a healthy walk into the corridors, after such a harrowing day ?

He fell onto the mellow mattress, his tense muscles slowly melting against the soft fabric of his sheets, as a deep sigh of contentment left his lips. He extended his arms and legs, widely, forming a smiling star in the satin sky of his bed. He stretched, back arched and breath deep, lifting his hands in the warm air to observe their smooth, pure flesh. A minuscule drop of blood caught his eye, leading him to wince and regretfully leave his well-earned rest. He stepped into the bathroom, cautiously turned on the artificial, golden lights, and poured streams of hot, soapy waters on his palms, firmly rubbing them against each other, until they were red with irritation, but free of all incriminating traces.

He got rid of his clean but uncomfortable clothes, and led a silent conversation with his reflection, his nose winging at the mirror as he thoroughly searched his face for any proof of his crime. He then stepped back, and observed every single inch of his body.

He had lost himself in this unusual contemplation when the voice of the Prince resounded in the bedroom.

“Where were you ? I came to see you, an hour ago.”

His tone was not aggressive, yet full of almost childish worry. Startled for one second, Loki ultimately built his composure back and wrapped himself into his dressing gown, before leaving the water room to meet Anthony's gaze.

“I was wandering, my Prince”, he truthfully answered. “I suppose I was trying to forget...”

The future King slightly nodded, his visage still pale, marked with anguish. His arms crossed around his chest, he stepped closer, hesitantly.

“I am sorry”, Loki pursued. “I should have stayed with you. You seem ill, my Prince”, he whispered with a concerned glance at Tony's nervous features.

“I'm not a baby, I can stand staying on my own for a few hours”, the Human defended himself with a light frown, arms tightening around his bust, obviously not even aware of his own contradictions.

And this man was supposed to become the instrument of his revenge. Loki internally grunted.

“I never meant otherwise”, he however promised in a tender smile. “But it is my duty to ensure your well-being”, he reminded him as he stepped forward for their eyes to meet in the dimmed light, one hand gently reaching for the Prince's.

“Duty... I hope it's not another word for 'purpose', hm ?” Anthony faintly smiled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he tied his fingers to his lover's, leading them both to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You have opened my eyes to my own freedom”, Loki mouthed while softly tilting his head from left to right. “I am grateful, and therefore I gave myself the task, the duty, of taking care of you the way you took care of me. Is freedom not all about personal decisions ?” he timidly teased.

“Ha... When the student surpasses the teacher”, Tony chuckled, causing his interlocutor to raise an eyebrow.

“Whatever do you mean, my Prince ?”

“I gave you freedom, and I feel trapped. Ironic, isn't it ?”

“I most certainly do not consider it amusing”, Loki denied. “Is it this gruesome story that still haunts you ?” he risked after a few seconds of muteness.

“What else ?” Tony grimly murmured.

“Oh, my dear King”, the former slave gently whispered.

“I'm not a King yet”, the Midgardian frowned. “Not even sure I still want to become one.”

“Now, now, my Prince, my enthusiastic, ingenious Prince”, Loki attempted to comfort him, putting aside his reluctance to such syrupy practices and wrapping both of Tony's hands into his. “You are stronger than you seem to believe you are. I have seen and heard you speak of piercing a hole through the skies, travelling the worlds in the blink of an eye, and those were the thoughts of a passionate man with startling ideas, of a problem solver with patience, commitment and determination. If one infinitesimal glimpse of your intelligence and passion were used in the solving of the problem which is tearing you apart, this moment... I know you would defeat your worries just as swiftly as you are planning to fly into the stars. And if another parcel of your wonderful qualities were to be placed into your kingly duties, I am well assured that you would -you will- be a great, great monarch.”

He smiled, gently, the tip of his fingers running onto the Prince's red cheeks, as the Human lifted both eyebrows and parted his lips in confusion.

“Wow, that was one hell of a compliment”, he finally laughed, nervously.

“I thought every single word of it”, Loki insisted, praying deep inside for his flattery to look genuine enough – he was not entirely lying, in fact; despite his mitigated judgement upon this strange little man of a Prince, he knew he was dealing with a brilliant mind.

“It only makes it more embarrassing”, Tony taunted, pressing his shoulder against his, before landing a kiss on his cheekbone. “Thanks. At the very least, it made me feel better.”

“I am glad it did”, the Asgardian smiled back, dithering for one moment before leaning forward for his lips to meet the Prince's smirking mouth.

“Hm, that makes me feel better too”, the Human grinned.

“I hope it is not too much of a distraction, I still wish for you to find this luminous idea, that will definitely clear all clouds from your sunny mind”, Loki teased as he tied his arms around his neck and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs in utter innocence.

“I might need a little help to think straight, by now”, Tony winced amusingly.

“My apologies... Now, let us see...”

“Do we really need to settle this right now ?” the Prince protested, leaving a trail of light kisses on his lover's neck.

“I am eager to see you serene, my Prince...”

“I'd be very serene after this, believe me...”

“You're flattering me”, Loki smiled, “but it would be quite ephemeral, would it not ?”

“Hm, maybe”, Tony sighed in resignation. “I still need help to think straight, though. You've got quite an impressive brain of your own, how about you give me some ideas ?” he enquired as he buried his face into the nest of his partner's shoulder.

“I am not a counsellor”, Loki pretended to protest, heart nevertheless beating with jubilation, “but I have made it my _duty_ to try, did I not ?”

“You did, indeed”, the Prince mouthed, wrapping his arms around the Asgardian's waist.

“Very well. Then.. First of all, did Duchess Virginia give you any new information, concerning this infamous painting ?”

“Nope... Haven't seen her since this afternoon. I guess she's still leading her investigation.”

“She probably is, yes... Also, maybe does she wish to spare you additional emotions for today.”

“Hm, not her style.”

“She is your friend as much as your counsellor, is she not ?”

“Of course she is.”

“I never had friends, my Prince, but I believe one would do a lot to protect their friend from anything that might hurt them- harmful knowledge, for instance.”

“You think she's hiding something from me ?” Tony rephrased, eyes blinking with astonishment.

“I think she is doing everything in her power to be the best friend you can have, _and_ the best counsellor. She is an admirable woman”, he added after a second of hesitation.

“But I _told_ her I _wanted_ to know who had done this”, the Prince insisted, confused and already filled with doubt.

“I never said she would hide it from you forever, my Prince”, Loki tempered, hiding his satisfaction in a concerned expression. “I said she maybe wanted to-”

“Spare me additional emotions for today, yes, I know. But still.”

“I should not have said what I said”, Loki murmured, eyes low, acting as mortified as possible.

“You meant no harm”, the Prince shrugged. “Maybe I'm just paranoid... I'll ask her for the truth tomorrow. For the painting. And the magician, too. This investigation is taking too long for my liking.”

Loki contained a sly smile. Oh, how he wished he could say all he had heard and seen, this very evening, have the Duchess put on the hottest of spots for her hidden knowledge of the painter's – and maybe even the murderer's – identity. But no. Unwise idea. It would have implied explaining how and where he had learned it all, and him spying on the Prime Minister, even with the “best intentions”, was quite a dubious act. No, he should keep on implanting suspicion into the Prince's mind in a slow, subtle way.

He remained silent for a few moments, pensive.

And then there was light.

Oh, this was almost too perfect.

“I may have an idea”, he whispered. “It is quite ridiculous, I admit, but- at best, it will inspire you, at worst, it will make you laugh, I suppose”, he chuckled shyly.

“You sure have a very personal way of introducing things”, the Prince softly smirked, five fingers running into his lover's hair. “I'm all ear.”

“Well- I thought that, maybe, travelling to Vanaheim would be a good way for you to refresh your spirit, firstly, and maybe, also, lead your own investigation ? I am almost certain the magician who attempted to kill me was a Vanir. For having visited this Realm a few times during Thor's diplomatic travels, I can tell it is quite a small colony, now. It should not be too arduous to learn who exactly was this sorcerer, and why he was sent to Midgard.”

He gave a timid glance to the Prince, showing only his pretended will to help and hiding as deep as possible his true curiosity – because even if he now knew _why_ the young magician had tried to murder him, he still ignored _who_ he was and _how_ he had ended up on Midgard – and his devious wish to send Anthony as far away from the Duchess as possible. Far away from Thor, too. The last thing he wanted was the kingly duo to develop a genuine bond – he knew the Asgardian monarch quite enough to acknowledge the sickening charisma he could display on some occasions.

He waited, silent and impatient, his heart skipping a beat or two as he noticed the Prince's surprise and hesitation.

“It's an- interesting idea”, he finally stated. “I like the perspective of breathing some new air, but how could I go to Vanaheim if my machine isn't ready yet ? And how am I supposed to have this machine ready if the men who work to build it are dying, and the people hates me for it ?” he whispered, his voice clearly strangled with anxiety, as his main dilemma rushed back to the surface, overwhelming him with palpable emotion.

“We could, maybe, ask King Thor for permission to use the Bifrost ?” Loki cautiously answered, cupping the Prince's face between his hands, his thumbs clumsily yet gently stroking his cheeks. “He would understand your concern, truly. He is a King, he knows how important it is for a King to have a clear mind. He would be happy to help you free yours from your worries. I know the main goal of his visit is to learn more about Midgard and its customs, but I am sure Lady Virginia would make a marvellous work of hosting him while you are away- while _we_ are away, if you wish. I could be your guide into Vanaheim”, he offered, slowly, carefully, hands running down Tony's shoulders, massaging them ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving his, gripping them, asking for the Prince's full attention. “Using the Bifrost could also help you study the effet of realm-travelling on Human bodies; it could prove important to your works on your wormhole. As for the sl- the prisoners who are working in the mines...”, he bit his inner lip, mute for an instant, hastily looking for a solution he had not thought of yet, “well, I am sure they deserved their punishment. But your concern for the way they are treated does honor you, my Prince. Maybe you could- send free workers to the mines, to help the prisoners end their tasks, and help _you_ finish your machine ? I am sure there are many ways to soothe the people's anger, if anger there is, and anger you fear”, he quickly assured, noticing the Human's doubting expression. “A public announcement, maybe ? Your coronation is still upon us. How about you make the day you become the King also the day you free the prisoners from their ambiguous condition ? You could have the machine finished for this day, with the help of a few new, free men, and the supervision of precise measures against any sort of mistreatment. You could inaugurate it, demonstrate its efficiency, with the crown on your head, and the eyes of all on your actions. You could show your indulgence, by announcing the transfer of the convicts to, maybe, a regular prison. You would display your most important qualities as a King. Your intelligence, your forgiveness, and your power. A message to your people, and even to the other Realms, if you wish to have Thor and other Kings invited to the event.”

He smiled, breath short with his own enthusiasm, born from the sudden certitude that he had just discovered the absolute remedy to both Tony's worries and his own scheming longings.

 

The Prince remained still and silent for ten long seconds, eyes wide open, as if he could better see _how_ such a sophisticated mind could have possibly been pushed into the degrading position that was slavery, how such a spirit could have been broken into aberrant self-oblivion.

For one second, the thought occurred to him that it was plainly impossible. That the man who was sitting on his lap like the most loving partner could never truly have been the _good slave_ he had acted like during their first times together.

For one second, for no precise reason, he considered the option of being afraid of him. The second after, he had put it aside.

Only one thorny question kept on streaming into his mind. _Who was Loki ?_

“And you said you weren't a counsellor”, he ultimately whispered in a light smile, breaking the silence that had led Loki to tense, muscle by muscle, fearing he had gone too far. “This sounds like the perfect plan.”

The Asgardian let out a nervous chuckle, cheeks blushing with relief and mute exultation.

Tony widened his smile, and they shared a kiss.

Yes. Vanaheim. Out there, in the stars. There laid all the answers.


	14. The Kings' Advisors

 

“I am leaving for Midgard this moment, Falinn”, Thor told his First Counsellor when the latter entered his wide, heavily ornamented office.

“I wish you the most pleasant of stays, my King”, the Minister smiled, ever so slightly, as he bowed in front of him.

Ignoring this hypocritical show of respect, the God piled up six tremendously thick books, all referring, in one way or another, to the Rainbow Bridge -promise given, promise kept-, and hastily left his apartments, cape floating in the warm air of the eternal spring, as he walked through his endless gardens.

“Falinn ?” he eventually called, knowing the silent spider was still behind him.

“Your Majesty ?”

“I left precise notes as to how I wanted the Kingdom to be governed during my absence. I trust you will take the best care of my people”, he concluded, turning back to meet the older man's gaze.

“It goes without saying, my King”, the counsellor immediately confirmed, bowing, again.

Thor kept his eyes on him for one, two, three silent seconds. The stormy hue of his irises showed no warmth, nor coldness. He had worked very hard, in the past days, to design himself a new mask, a visage of pure neutrality -a face he would certainly need to show more than once, when he would finally gather the strength and wit to take back his throne from the invisible shadow that had conquered it, and conquered _him_ , years and years ago.

“I will be back in seven days”, he finally stated, drawing a fine smile to his lips.

And, in a swing of his Hammer, he was gone, soon landing by Heimdall's sentry post. The Guardian's golden sight never left the immensity of the starry skies, as he silently obliged to his King's order.

“To Midgard.”

***

The Duchess stood still, cold and pale as a marble statue. Her empty gaze seeked an unreachable comfort into the shy palette of dawn, as the sun rose behind the mountains, and the swirling, artificial clouds emerged from the mines. Her hands, tied together in a nervous knot, fought weakly against their desperate need to shake off the pain, to grab onto something, anything, and throw away the overwhelming words that kept on tearing her apart, from head to heart.

_She killed herself, my Lady._

She had spent endless minutes, hours, the night before, in the dark shadows of her empty chambers, attempting to find a way, the best way, the only way. She could not get her sister arrested, could she? But could she allow her the freedom she still owned, when she had so obviously lost control over her own mind, when she could throw herself into hell any minute, and take them all with her?

She could not.

She had sent four guards to her mansion. She had hoped and prayed.

_She killed herself, my Lady._

Never would she had thought- How could she?

“The three others are still there, my Lady. We didn't move the- the body”, the young soldier told her, hesitantly, his voice crackled with the haunting memory of what he had discovered. “Shall I call the coroner ?” he then enquired, as she remained mute, showing no sign of having even heard him.

She eventually turned around, her thin figure seeming rather ethereal, floating in the muslin whites of her dressing gown, almost blending into the light mist of daybreak.

She suddenly appeared so old, and unreal; the poor man stepped back, in fear of facing what could well be the ghost of her sister.

“I will come personnally”, she ultimately whispered, her tone equal, and only even more frightful. “Allow me a few moments, I will be with you shortly”, she concluded, her neck breaking in a light nod, as she silently sent him away.

She tried to cry. She truly did. She needed to; she could not take the risk to collapse in front of- anyone.

But her eyes remained dry.

 

Dressed in the darkest colors she had ever worn, she was about to leave the Tower when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Well pinch me, I must be dreaming, my Prime Minister is wearing a grey cloud”, the Prince noted in an amused tone, as he rejoined her into the vast entry hall. “Such a fashion _faux pas_ isn't like you, Duchess mine”, he specified, one eyebrow raised in a silent interrogation.

“A relative of mine is being laid to rest, today”, she murmured, after a second of nervous silence.

“Ow”, Tony winced as his excessive enthusiasm considerably dropped, “sorry. Were you close ?” he clumsily enquired.

“Not so much anymore”, she answered, truthfully, her heart racing and clenching into her chest. “I won't be long”, she added.

“It's okay, take your time- As long as you're here when King Thor arrives... When is he supposed to ' _land_ ' here, actually ?”

She blinked in shock. She had completely, utterly forgotten.

“He didn't give us any precision on that matter, I'm afraid”, she finally whispered, one hand running through her hair. “I suppose I shall not leave the Tower until he arrives, then...”

“Hm, yeah, about that- I'm sort of sorry to bring it to you like that, and in such a moment, but”, he coughed, “Loki and I are leaving.”

Only silence dared to respond, for three long seconds.

“I'm sorry ?” she ultimately articulated.

“When Thor will get here, I'll ask him to 'Bifrost us' to Vanaheim. Loki is ninety percent sure it's where we'll find out who this magician-murderer-guy was. I can't go on without those answers, I need them, so- Unless you have some new information for me, I'll go get them myself”, he concluded, chin up and face filled with both apprehension and determination.

“You are an impossible man”, she eventually managed to assert, eyes wide in astonishment and a hint of pure dread. “The King of Asgard comes to visit, and you plan on using _his_ Bifrost to run off with your lover to a Realm you know approximatively nothing about ?!” she summarized, her voice reaching highs it very rarely came to.

“Loki will be my guide”, he replied firmly. “And I'm certain Thor will perfectly understand that I _need_ to have this affair cleared out, in order to think straight and be a good, wise leader to my Kingdom.”

“You can have it cleared out without leaving for _Vanaheim_!” she protested, only to realize, way too late, the mistake she had just made.

“Can I ?” Tony wondered. “I asked for this to be solved a week ago. What do we have ? Nothing. Unless, again, you've got something new to announce me, you who I put in charge of it all ?” he asked, his sight slightly narrowing at her as he crossed his arms before his chest.

She arduously swallowed the answers she would have wished to give. Could she? Could she bare sullying her sister's memory, even if it meant preventing her friend from running off to a foreign land, just a few weeks before his coronation ?

But would it prevent it, really ? Tony wanted, needed to know _who_ , exactly, Victor was. She only knew Sinna had adopted him, a decade ago. She ignored all of his past.

_Excuses, excuses,_ a reproving voice whispered inside.

She instinctively shook her head, ever so slightly, but visibly enough for the Prince to take it as an answer.

“That's what I thought”, he sighed in obvious disappointment.

Her lips parted in both hurt and remorse. She tilted her face again, forcing herself into the bravery she had lacked for too long.

She was set to confess what she never should have even though of keeping for herself.

“I'm gonna get ready”, Tony cut her off as he shrugged, unaware of her sudden change of mind. “While I'm gone, I'd like the enquiry to keep going, even though I don't hold much hope... I trust you'll do your best”, he smiled, one hand reaching for her shoulder, landing a light tap on her sleeve. “Also, here are my instructions for the mines, the miners, and the building of my machine. I think you'll be happy with the solutions we though of.”

“ _We_ ?” she repeated, confusingly, while grabbing the piece of paper he had handed out to her.

“You're not my only advisor, dearie”, he winked, before laying a swift kiss on her cheek. “You may go to those funerals. My condolences for your loss. I'll have you informed, if Thor should arrive while you're away”, he concluded, his features showing mostly his eagerness to end this conversation.

“I- Tony- Please”, she stuttered, fingers clenching onto the parchment she had not even had the time to read.

“I won't change my mind, Pepper”, he warned her.

“I know you won't”, she nervously smiled, eyes fluttering in loss. “At least- Take a few guards with you ? You know nothing of this Realm.”  
“I'll think about it”, he pouted after a second of silent reflexion. “Now, I won't bother you any longer. My condolences, again. See you later!”

He smiled, furtively, and turned away, leaving her shivering in disbelief, on the threshold of a Tower she suddenly wished she had never stepped a foot into.

***

“She's hiding something”, Tony whispered, head resting onto Loki's lap, as his partner's long fingers ran through his hair. “I'm sure she doesn't mean any harm, I just wish- I wish she'd have enough faith in me to tell me everything, you know ?”

“It is perfectly understandable, my Prince”, the Asgardian murmured softly. “I am certain she will soon see your true worthiness. Taking decisions such as the ones you recently took is one of many signs that you are ready to become the King you were born to be. She will treat you as such. They all will.”

“Hm-”

“Are you having second thoughts, my Lord ?” he enquired, gently, but his heart beating actively at the intolerable idea.

“No- No. Just hoping you're right”, the Human ultimately mouthed.

He lifted his gaze up, hand lightly pushing onto his lover's neck to bring their lips together.

“The clothes I have described to your Servant In The Walls are awaiting us”, Loki smiled, with a drip of amusement, and a stream of relief.

“Aw, I'd forgotten about that”, the Prince winced as he followed the Asgardian into the bedroom, eyes widening in stupefaction as he discovered their improbable disguises. “Are you sure Vanirs dress like that ?” he asked, quite suspicious.

“I am positive on the matter, my King”, Loki smirked, as he laid his hands on the intricate set of light, transparent drapes that made his costume. “We would not want to stand out from the common crowd, would we ? It will be far easier for us to obtain the information you desire if we can pass as Vanirs ourselves.”

“Hm, I guess”, he pouted while hesitantly poking at the complicated tunic that was apparently meant for him -where the hell were the pants ?-. “I don't speak the Vanir tongue, though.”

“I speak it like my own”, the former slave promised lightly, with the confident smile of the man who had every single issue covered.

“The things you have me do”, the Prince sighed faintly, though he could not help but smile back, ultimately. The things he had him do, yes.

He liked it. Crazy and sensible at the same time. What else could a mad engineer and future monarch hope for ?

 

Loki contained his laugh as long as he could, but eventually could not bare keeping it inside, when a grumpy Midgardian got out of the bathroom, fully dressed in Vanir fashion -a fashion that looked mostly feminine, for Human standards; Vanirs did not make such a fuss about the way men and women dressed, or the way they _should_ look different; Vanirs were smart people.

“I know I'm ridiculous, you don't have to make a show of it” the Prince grunted as he crossed his arms, his face the one of a pouty child.

“You are in perfect adequacy with the people we are about to meet, my King”, Loki swore with a reassuring grin.

“Hm- Looks better on you”, Tony eventually noticed, as his eyes slid down his lover's long, feline figure. The savant superpositions of muslin and silk underlined his curves with subtle sensuality. Loki did not particularly enjoy such garments, as they reminded him of his slave attires, but the effect they seemed to have on the Prince could only satisfy him, which was reason why he gave a whirl to his tunica, and drew an innocent smile.

“Thank you, my Prince, but shall I dare say it is no time for such thoughts ?” he softly reminded him.

Just as if the Norns had heard his commentary, the well-known trembling of the Bifrost opening shook the Tower to its foundations.

“He's here”, they said in unison.

 

Loki wanted this meeting to be as swift as it could be. The past days having used him to acquiring just exactly what he had wished for, he trusted today would be no different.

Anthony was reluctant to have Thor seeing him in such _ridiculous_ clothing, just as much as Loki wanted his previous Master to witness, even if just for a few seconds, what he was missing, what he would never have again. This conversation would be prompt and efficient.

The Prince met the newly arrived King in the entrance hall. With Loki tied to his arm, a certain look of possessivity in the eye, he greeted Thor with admirable politeness, thanked him for the books he had brought, and explained in perfectly concise words the meaning of their dressing, as well as the reason why they _needed_ the Bifrost, this day, this minute. He concluded his speech with curteous apologies, and a formal invitation to his coronation. Just like they had rehearsed.

And just like Loki had imagined, Thor, Mighty, Kingly Thor, understood. He could not bare having his potential friend suffer from such anguish, could he ? Loki gritted his teeth – the torments of a spoiled little Prince were so much more important than the pain of an innocent slave, were they not ? –, and pretended a smile, his gaze never meeting the King's, though he knew Thor had the hardest of times keeping his eyes off him.

“I do hope you will find the answers you are looking for, Friend Anthony”, the Asgardian smiled, with disgusting genuineness, one of his immense paws briefly patting at the Human's shoulder.

“Thank you, pal”, the Prince grinned. “And sorry again for my poor welcoming. I'll be leaving you in the sure hands of my Prime Minister. She should be there shortly; she had an important gathering”, he eluded. “She'll most certainly be the best of guides, and will tell you all there is to know, at least all you want to know, about our little Earth.”

“I sure look forward to her lessons”, Thor enthusiastically replied. “Lady Virginia seemed like an excellent professor, indeed.”

“Oh, there are many things she does excellently”, Tony assured. “Except flirting, she hates that, so no funny business, huh ?” he teased -but not completely.

“Flirt ?” Thor repeated, seeming somewhat confused.

“Ah, you'll learn by yourself, I guess”, the Prince chuckled. “Oh, and, guards ? I know she told you to accompany us, but, all things considered, I really think we'll be fine by ourselves. Besides, with your friend Heimdall (is that it ?) looking upon us, I'm sure nothing wrong could happen, right ?” he asked the God.

“I make it a personal commitment”, Thor promised in a solmen nod that almost got Loki rolling his eyes.

“Good ! Then- We're all set, I suppose. Off we go !”

The Prince tightened his grip around Loki's arm, and looked up, as he expected to pierce through the ceiling and fly up to the skies.

“Heimdall ? To Vanaheim”, Thor commanded, after a last glance to his ex-slave's sealed lips.

The multicolor gate opened, and immediately wrapped its luminous arms around them.

***

The Duchess had had her sister buried under the red roses of her garden. She had pushed the four young guards into swearing they would not speak a word of it all, unless she asked them to. She had not found the strength to put any sort of order into the horrifying scenery she had discovered Sinna into. It had all remained the way it was, untouched, sacred and cursed all together. The bloody, sharp piece of porcelain still haunted her mind, as she walked back, alone, to the Tower.

She was only crossing the threshold when the ground shivered under her feet, and her sight was blinded, for the glimpse of a moment, by an iridescent column of pure light.

“God”, she whispered when her senses swirled back to her, utterly distraught. “God- Guards ?”

“The Prince has just left, my Lady”, the captain informed her, after a moment of uncomfortable muteness.  
“Alone ?” she hissed, her heart beating in scarcely hidden fright.

“With the- Asgardian delegate- Loki, my Lady”, he eventually answered, as diplomatically as possible, his eyes escaping to the high and large silhouette of the Asgardian King, who had stepped forward, intrigued by the dissonant accents of the Prime Minister's voice.

Their eyes met.

And she broke. A strangled sob soared through her throat, as she collapsed to the ground, before the eyes of the most shocked of audiences.

 

 


	15. Finding What Has Been Lost

“That was- Horrible. And fantastic.”

Those were the first words Tony managed to articulate, after several minutes of pure dizziness, spent laying on the impossibly blue grass of a gigantic meadow. His eyes were still filled with the blinding lights of the Bifrost, his balance still lost somewhere in between the branches of Yggdrasil, most certainly where he had also forsaken his capacity to breathe normally.

“I'm still alive, aren't I?” he then wondered, gaze lifting up to his traveling companion. “This isn't some sort of Paradise?”

“I see no mighty warriors, nor endless tables of divine delights, so I will assume we are not in Valhalla, my Prince”, Loki answered in an amused tone, hands resting on his hips as he watched over his weak Human. Of course, a journey through Yggdrasil was staggering in more than a way. What did the Midgardian expect ?

“Good. Good. Well then. Can you hand me my phone, please ? It must've rolled somewhere... I'd like to take some notes. Something like 'no wormholing without at least a full bottle of anti-emetics'.”

“I am afraid you have forgotten your device on Midgard”, the Asgardian smiled slightly, as his eyes methodically searched the dense turf around them. “Would a piece of parchment suffice to your needs ? The Capital is only half a mile away. I invite you to see for yourself”, he encouraged him as he walked to the top of a small hill and pointed at the boiling center of the Vanir world.

Tony grunted, but eventually achieved the exhausting task of standing up. He tottered his way to the peak, eyes folded in an ineffective attempt to protect themselves from the three massive suns that burned in the skies.

The Citadel was wide and colorful. Eclectic, too. Yes, eclectic was the word. As Loki made a point of explaining, Vanaheim, a peaceful Realm led by a wise King named Freyr, was considered the junction of the Magical Worlds. Here, Asgardians, Vanirs, Elves, Dwarves and even a few hundreds Fire and Frost Giants, lived together, in harmony. All visitors were welcomed with a startling combination of gentle respect and invasive curiosity. “Pure” Vanirs did not exist, here; a vast majority of the population showed Asgardian and Elvish roots. The City of Vanaheim's second name was “The Home of the Children”, because it had almost become a tradition for mothers from all the Realms, who could not support their child, to abandon them on the threshold of the Citadel, where the orphans, white or dark or red or blue of skin, would always find care into the arms of a willing family. Everyone was linked to everyone, by blood or by bond, and the Alltongue was the only official language. For those reasons and many more, it was almost impossible for a secret to be kept entirely.

“Which is the reason why we will try not to draw attention on us, and also the reason why we will soon know what we wish to know”, the former slave concluded with a smile, as he and the Prince stepped into the loud, compressed crowd that flooded the Avenue of the Merchants – which well wore its name.

“I really don't see why anyone would pay attention to us, really”, Tony commented. “It's just like home, in the end”, he smiled back. “It's been quite a while since I last had a walk in the streets, but I remember it feeling exactly like that. Well, the weird looking people set apart, of course”, he tempered as his eyes gazed up to a monumental man (?), with skin as bright as fire and hair as surreal as a myriad of sparks.

“People from your State would certainly look quite 'weird' to this Fire Giant”, Loki replied in a chuckle. “May I remind you half of your population is wearing _iron exoskeletons_ that make them bounce as high as a Sycamore, and run as fast as a wild wolf ?”

“Right. Speaking of wolves, why don't we officially begin our inquiry with this guy over there ?” the Human asked, his chin pointing at the red kiosk of an old Elf – he guessed, by the ears – who guarded – or maybe was guarded by – half a dozen white cubs.

“Why him ?” Loki wondered.

“'Cause he has baby wolves !” Tony answered, as if those words were the most obvious of obvious things – and they were. “Come on.”

“Remember, my Prince: it is better if I speak”, Loki reminded him with a wince.

“Why ? They speak this Alltongue thing you were talking about, don't they ?”

“They do. Comprehension is not my main worry.”

“What is, then ?”

“You will see”, Loki sighed, as they approached the old Elf's stand. “Greetings, my good man, I would like to-”

“Say no more, beautiful visitor”, the seller immediately smiled, showing a serene yet somewhat eager attitude, “I have just what you and your small friend need !”

Loki gave a knowing – and quite desperate – look at Tony, as the latter straightened with shocked dignity – _small friend ?!_

“I would be quite curious to know what you believe it is we need, noble vendor”, the Asgardian politely replied, a slight grin stretching his lips as he crossed his hands behind his back, “but I am afraid we are not here to buy; we are in fact in need of an indication.”  
“You are in the middle of the biggest fair of the year, my dear”, the Elf giggled, obviously very entertained by this trivial conversation, “it is unwise from you to come to me with no intentions of giving me what I am here for.”

“As it was unwise from _you_ to enthusiastically pretend you knew what _I_ was here for, when you are so clearly disappointed with my actual need”, Loki grinned.

“I am not disappointed with your need, witty friend, I most certainly knew what you wished for, and still pretend I have it in my possession, but I am a merchant: I don't give, I sell. An indication, I will offer to you gladly, but I will ask for something in exchange.”

“We do not possess any form of funds, I am afraid”, Loki retorted lightly, as Tony gave them a suspicious glance. Those two aliens seemed to _enjoy_ their verbal jousting, somehow. Was that what they had to be worried about ? Getting into weird, polite, non-physical fights ? Was Loki to be arrested if he lost the argument, or something ?

“Another unwise decision, I am afraid”, the Elf then replied as he jumped on his table and calmly sat on its edge, his gnarled fingers gently running through the thick coat of a curious wolf cub.

“But you only desire _something_ in return of your help, do you not ? Gold and jewelry are not the only ways a decent man can be paid.”

“A man is only decent when he does not allow his intelligence to be mocked, nor mocks the intelligence of another man. Make me a reasonable offer, friend, and us two decent men will have a deal.”

For some reason, the elder's gaze slid right up to Tony, whose attention had been briefly captivated by the wavering structure of the red tent.

“Why is he looking at me ?” the Human whispered to Loki, low enough not to be heard.

“He probably wonders what is the use of you if you cannot partake in the debate”, the Asgardian smirked.

“Wha- _You_ told me to keep quiet !” the Prince protested, positively insulted. “Look, guy”, he proceeded to say as he turned towards the amused pixie, “we're looking for a- friend; if you give us something, I'll fix this kiosk's very, very poor frame, so it won't fall on your head in the next hour. No kiosk, no income, right ? So technically, I'll be saving you time _and_ money. Decent enough, isn't it ?”

The Elf raised an eyebrow, then his chin, searching what possible fault could cause his wooden scaffold to fall apart.

“You are surrounded by friends, in the City of Vanaheim”, he eventually answered. “To give you what you need, I will need further precisions on the man you are seeking.”

The Prince gave a victorious smile to his lover, whose eyes slightly rolled in their orbits. Tony let out a chuckle, before handing the Elf a digitized picture of what the almost-murderer-of-Loki could have looked like, when younger – of course he had had this issue covered before leaving; he knew how investigations worked, thank you very much.

“Here. Know him ? He's a good magician, and his magic glows red, if it's of any help.”

“It could be”, the old man prudently murmured as he pensively contemplated the portrait. “I will need a moment to find this face in my old memory. Maybe you could repare my 'poor frame' while I do so ? Will you help him, Silver Tongue ?” he teasingly asked Loki. “Or maybe he is your servant ?”

“Servant ? Norns, no”, the taller man laughed. “But his hands are certainly more gifted than mine. I will share the gift of my speech with you as he works. If you do not mind ?” he asked Tony.

“Sure not. Have fun”, the Prince sarcastically replied.

He petted the head of a chirping cub for a few seconds, before conscientiously getting down to work.

 

He only needed the quarter of an hour to solidify the rudimentary structure. He quickly rubbed his hands together to clean them from the reddish dust they had collected, and gave his concentration back to the improbable discussion the Elf – named Rägn – and Loki kept on leading.

“Sorry to interrupt”, he indeed barged in. “The job's done, and well done, I give you my word for it. So, found anything useful in this old memory of yours ?” he called upon the Elf.

“I was just telling your good friend this visage reminded me of many, many people, for I have met many, many people in my life, small man”, Rägn answered, while Loki shrugged in resignation. “Since I ignore who this young man might precisely be, I would be lying if I said I knew where he could be found. But you asked for my help, and gave me something for it. Therefore, I cannot leave you with less than I promised, can I ?”

“You can't, indeed”, Tony mumbled without even attempting to hide his disappointment.

“I will lend you one of those very special pups”, Rägn pursued with an indelible smile. “For, let us say, an hour. I am sure it will be enough.They are extremely talented, in many ways. I will lend you this one, the smaller, yes, him- His name is Finnandi. He always finds what has been lost.”

“Hm- We don't have anything to make him sniff”, Tony objected, warily.

“Oh, no need for such things”, Rägn laughed lightly. “He is a White Wolf. He does not 'sniff', he _senses_.”

“I see. Loki ?”

“White Wolves are reputed for their sharp, almost mystical instinct, yes”, the Asgardian confirmed, carefully. “They are also reputed for being _extinct_ ”, he added with a suspicious frown.

“Reputation is a fairly odd thing, my good friends”, Rägn peacefully noted as he unleashed his precious beast. “Words, words in the wind. I do love words, for I am a merchant, but for I am a merchant, I know their limits too. Being a merchant requires the best sense of practicality. We should all be merchants. It would be so much easier for us to estimate the true value, the true _nature_ , of what lays just before our eyes. Careful, he runs”, he concluded with a smile as Finnandi took off in a long, piercing howl.

And they ran after him, without even knowing why.

“He will come back to me in an hour !” Rägn yelled behind their backs, and Tony could clearly hear him laugh over the beating of his own racing heart.

“What the fuck are we doing ?” he eventually managed to shout at Loki as the latter cleaved the crowd for both of them.

“I believe we are following a racetrack that might very well lead us nowhere, my Prince!” the Asgardian replied – and he smiled.

“You just wanted to run, didn't you?” Tony wondered after a few seconds of startled silence.

“It has been _ages_!” Loki laughed as he doubled his speed.

Tony had never seen him like this.

“Hasn't it been ages since you last carried someone on your back, by any chance?” he eventually panted, chasing the emotion away – but Loki's only answer was another laugh, and he could not help but feel his heart gently melt, in both tenderness and exhaustion.

And then Loki brutally stopped, letting out a surprised exclamation as Tony's body crashed into his.

They found themselves on the ground, dizzy with the fall, while Finnandi yapped in contentment and ran around a group of baffled Frost Giants.

At least Tony assumed they were Frost Giants – he knew very little about the inhabitants of such foreign places as Jötunheim –, as they were as tall as the yellow guy from earlier, only –bluer. No hair, too, that was interesting. And eyes –Damn, those eyes were something.

He only realized he was staring when Loki pinched his arm and helped him getting up.

“We apologize”, he heard his lover say to the strangers. “Our wolf is yet to be taught his manners.”

The Jötun who appeared to be the head of the group nodded, slowly, slowly enough for Tony to get a bit impatient. He held himself back, still, and actively looked around. Finnandi seemed really happy with himself. Obviously he had found something. But what, where ?

And then the Giants left. Without a word.

“Well that was cold”, he could not help but comment.

“This cub is useless”, Loki simply sighed. “Let us take him back to this damned charlatan.”

“Hey, we have him for an hour ! What do we have left to lose ? We've already gotten rid of our dignity”, he teased.

“You are- I will not change your mind, will I ?”

“Nope. Finnandi ? C'm'ere, yeah, good boy”, he smiled as the pup came trotting back to him. “The blue guys were really fun to stare at, Finn, but that's not what we're looking for.”

“There is no use speaking to a wolf, my Prince, white or not-”

“Shush, you're gonna vex him ! Now, Finn, look at this guy, here, on the picture. You're very clever, I know it, and with a tiny, tiny bit of magical instinct, I'm sure you'll find something for us to work with. Hm ?”

“My Prince, I really do not believe-”

Before he could end his sentence, Finnandi, whose head had tilted sidewards all the way through Tony's speech, imprisoned the picture between the sharp cage of his teeth, and rushed through the crowd – again.

The Prince offered a gigantic smile to his companion, and grabbed his hand as he followed their guide.

Loki could ony blink in shock. _How many impossible skills could a simple Midgardian possess, precisely?_ , his face seemed to wonder.

They ran for fewer than five minutes, and still they had almost reached the endpoint of the Avenue when Finn finally stopped. He chirped and hopped around them with utter joy, as he allowed them a few seconds to contemplate the small, obviously abandoned house he had led them to. An old apothecary shop, they deduced by the faded sign. Tony bit his lower lip, as he took a swift look at the crowd that still filled the street. No one even bothered to glance at the desolate property. Did they simply ignore it ? Or were they _afraid_ of it ?

“Is there something I should know about decaying buildings from Vanaheim ? Like are they automatically haunted ?” he ultimately asked.

“Not that I know”, Loki murmured, his eyes blurred with the strangest of veils.

“Huh. Hey, you all right ?”

“Yes- Yes... I believe he wants us to come in”, the Asgardian mouthed as Finnandi, still holding the picture in his mouth, insistently scratched at the wooden door – which opened slightly at his impulse.

And come in they did. The young wolf immediately ran to a set of stairs. He stopped half-way to the first floor, and got on his hind legs, his nose pointing at an old, partly erased portrait.

“I'm guessing the guy on the painting looks a lot like our little friend”, Tony muttered.

“I would allow myself this guess as well”, Loki confirmed in a low, somewhat hoarse voice, as they stepped on the crumbling staircase, their eyes soon confirming their belief.

Silence fell. Tony frowned. His partner's traits were pale and tense, as he slowly turned around himself and observed the decomposing room. Somehow, his visage echoed the dismantled features that still hanged onto the old, old painting. The Prince prudently laid a hand on his lover's shoulder.

“Hey... What's going on ?”

Loki pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I believe I have been here before”, he finally whispered.

 


	16. Déjà-Vu

“My Lady”, Thor whispered as he wrapped his gigantic hand around the Duchess' shaking fingers.

They were alone. After a short instant of pure shock, the wholeness of the present court had converged towards the Prime Minister, officially in search for a way to help, but mostly eager to have a clearer view of this improbable picture. Thor, appalled by this display of disorganization and disrespect, had commanded them to quit their buzzing nonsense and had taken upon himself to support the Duchess to her apartments, guided by only one nervous guard.

Of course, the King had seen women cry before, and he had been raised in the idea that this fragility of mind was their natural condition, but, despite it all, he was startled with the way the maiden, who he had thought made of marble from the day he had briefly interacted with her, had crumbled before his eyes, for no apparent reason.

“My Lady”, he repeated, “are you feeling ill ? Should I call a healer, or ask for a cup of warm wine ?” he offered, notwithstanding his almost utter ignorance of what could make a Midgardian feel better.

Obviously, she needed nor doctor, nor beverage of any sort to overcome her own sufferings. She had already cleared her sharp features of all tears, and was about to fully chase the remaining gulps of her sobs. Her back was straight as a column when she retrieved her hand from Thor's.

“I'm terribly sorry, and ashamed, to have welcomed you with such a pathetic scene, King Thor”, she ultimately answered, shaking her head. “I've had a- very difficult day, to say the least, even if it doesn't excuse the way I-”

“Say no more, Lady Virginia, I know the position you are fighting daily to be worthy of is a very demanding one. No apology is needed, and if I may be of any help...”

Thor smiled, slightly. He had had mixed feelings for the Duchess since he had first understood she was nor an emptily beautiful Princess, nor an ephemeral concubine. She was a Prime Minister. His present experience with his own First Counsellor – thus, his late acknowledgement of the web Falinn had glued him into – had led him to remain cautious around the red-haired woman. Her strength and will to help her Prince could as well be a way for her to keep a solid grip onto him.

But what kind of mischievous politician allowed themselves to fall apart in front of the whole court ? From this instant, he had not felt for her anything but the soft compassion he felt so guilty of, most of the time. But she, as opposed to many women he had had in his life, did not make him feel like less of a man, or less of a monarch, for this incongruous softness. She called him King, and looked at him with genuine respect, even when he showed exaggerate care, instead of the calm severity he was supposed to display. It was all he had ever wished for. Be the King, and be _him,_ all at one time. All he had failed to obtain from his warriors, from his people, from his lovers, even from himself, in the end. He had wished to stifle the part of him that did not meet the expectations of all. He had desired to cut out this tender piece of his soul that had no place in the man he should be. But the worlds were at peace; there were no battles to be won, no enemies to kill mercilessly, no criminals to punish that his ministers had not taken care of already.

It was why he needed Loki so much. In the privacy of his chambers, with his slave writhing under him- He was the King, as long as he was imperious, demanding, invasive. He had become addicted to the way Loki made him feel when he allowed him full control over his body, when he cried out his name, when he gave him the sentiment of power he lacked so cruelly. Oh, it was a twisted way of surviving the shame of being the shadow he was- But there it was. His need to assert the dominance he was born to convey, and did not know how to convey, was this devouring.

He had come to Midgard for reasons he was not so sure of anymore. Did he wish to free himself from this burning desire, or, oppositely, did he want to take back what he had been forced to give, feel Loki's body surrender to his again, hear his name in his broken voice, to reinforce the strength he had lost since his departure ? If so, why had he allowed him to leave for Vanaheim ? Had he, for once, thought like a King, and instinctively tried his best to maintain “a friendly relation” with Prince Anthony ?

He did not know.

But he knew, this moment, that Duchess Virginia of House Seasons, with her admirable composure, comforting deference and endearing sensitivity, could well be the healer of his invisible wounds. Never would he had thought that he needed so badly to take care of someone, that offering a piece of himself, instead of taking a piece of another, could make him feel- _kingly_ , in a so very unusual way. No man, no teacher had ever thought of making him experience this feeling. No one, since his late mother, had ever taught him anything about feelings, period.

“I am here to learn, but I would be a very useless and unworthy ally if I were not here to help as well”, he added kindly as the Minister kept quiet.

“You're far too generous, Majesty, do be careful; it's a tricky quality, in the world we evolve in”, she eventually smiled, and shook her head again. “Difficult days are also part of this world, and I shouldn't have reacted to the Prince's takeoff the way I did. I simply am- worried for him. He's my friend as much as my superior”, she specified, and Thor felt strangely honored that she, out of all people she was surrounded by, would chose to say such things to _him_.

“I understand, my Lady”, he assured her. “And I promise you Heimdall, our Guardian, will keep his eternal eyes upon Sir Anthony and Loki, as long as they will be away. If anything should happen, he will bring them back to Midgard, safely. I give you my word.”

“Thank you”, she murmured, after a surprised and relieved glance at him. “Again, you're too generous”, she gently teased as she lightly bowed his head to him, before standing up in a discreet swish of dark silk. “If you wish, I will show you the Royal Tower, while the cooks prepare the dinner I invite you to order.”

“Are you sure you do not desire to rest ?”

“I'm all right, King Thor, I too give you my word”, she politely jested. “I will simply take a few minutes to change from these depressing attires. The servants will take your order for the dinner; I will be with you in a few moments.”

And, as quickly as this, she was gone. Thor kept on smiling, ever so lightly, as a servant and a guard timidly stepped up to him, the first one holding a strange device and a featherless plume, apparently set to note down his wishes, the second one simply standing there – a personal knight to the Duchess, he presumed.

He hesitated, just for a moment, then enumerated the meats, beverages and desserts he wished to see on the dinner table. Once the servant was gone, he raised a hand, inviting the young guard to come closer. Obviously intimidated – a feeling Thor was not used to give to a man-at-arms, really –, the man obeyed swiftly, standing straight and silent.

“At ease, soldier”, the King smiled as he laid a friendly tap on the Midgardian's shoulder. “Say- I am worried the Duchess might not have completely recovered from her- breakdown. I wish to help, as much as possible. Do you happen to know what precisely may have led her to this terrible state ?”

The young man blinked four or five times. He knew, Thor deduced, and he did not want to say, he also concluded as the silence between them dragged on. He insisted, gently, his curiosity and worry genuinely growing from a second to another, until the poor guard gave in.

He told him of a deceased sister, and of tragic circumstances. Then Thor asked which were these circumstances, and the man dithered again, his eyes nervously running to the door at which the Duchess could appear any moment. He had made a promise, he said. But to a friendly King, he supposed he could unveil the truth, he added.

He described the horrific scene with many, many details, a precision that led Thor to believe he had a certain form of fascination for the terrible event he had been partly witness of.

A precision that led Thor to believe many other things, too, as memories came rushing through his mind, giving him a strong, strange impression of _déjà-vu_.

“My Lady”, he murmured after a few moments of reflexion, when the Duchess eventually came back into the small living room. “I apologize in advance for my boldness, but I believe there are things I must tell you.”

***

“What do you mean, you've been here before?” Tony wondered, eyes folded in perplexity. “With Thor ?”

“No”, Loki tilted his head from left to right, his hands mingled in a nervous knot as he kept on staring at the sloping ceiling and crumbling walls. “That, I would remember. This place is not part of my memories. I simply- _feel_ \- that I might have come here. _Before_.”

“When you still knew who you were”, the Prince deduced after an instant of pensive silence.

His lover confirmed with a weak nod. Finnandi chirped. He had clambered all the way to the second floor. Loki frowned, and finally abandoned his statuesque stillness, climbing four steps in one leap in order to catch up with the wolf.

“He finds what has been lost”, Tony heard him say, as he cautiously followed, the stairs dangerously creaking under his feet. “How long has it been since Rägn lent him to us ?”

“About twenty minutes, I believe.”

“We should hurry”, Loki immediately responded, his voice tense, as he unhooked another portrait from a musty, wooden wall.

Finnandi yapped his approval, and came trotting by Tony, pressing his head against his legs. The Prince bit his inner lip, as he mutely observed the fading painting. A man at the winter of his life appeared in a tangle of dimmed lines. A serene smile stretched his thin mouth. His traits were sharp, but his eyes seemed made of a comforting chimney fire. Bright as sparkles, they spoke of kindness and wit, and made Tony feel- He could not say how they made him feel.

“The apothecary ?” he guessed, and Loki nodded.

“Ask the wolf to find him”, the Asgardian demanded, his tone somewhat imperious, a way of speaking Tony had obviously never heard him use. “He listens to you.”

“I'm sure he'd listen to you too, you know...”

“Just ask him- Please. We have no time to lose, my Prince”, Loki whispered as he handed the portrait to him.

The Prince glanced at the painting, then at his partner's nervous features.

“True”, he then murmured. “Finnandi ?” he called the cub as he squatted down and took the drawing from Loki's hands. “You're very good with faces”, he complimented the young wolf, without really knowing why he put so much effort into flattering an animal. “Will you help us find this guy, now ? I swear it's the last thing we'll ask from you”, he smiled, patting at the canine's furry ears.

Finnandi tilted his head sidewards, the sky blue of his irises bright with what could have been called a glint of reflexion. Then he happily barked his acceptance, and caught the portrait between his fangs. One second after, he was downstairs, and they were yet again running after him. Loki did not laugh, this time. Even in the way he ran, in the way he made his path through the crowd as they rushed back into the Avenue, Tony could perceive his tenseness, and feel the cold grip of incertitude that smothered his bones. Loki needed to know.

He tried his best to keep up with him, despite his short legs being no match for the Asgardian's never-ending springs, that made him fly more than they made him run, as he kept himself as close to Finnandi as possible.

They ran and they ran, all the way through the pulsating artery of the City, all the way to the immense doors they had crossed less than an hour ago. They passed kiosk after kiosk, house after house, tavern after tavern. Tony ran into three Elves, two Fire Giants and half a dozen Hybrids. He said sorry in a tongue they all understood, which still left him stupidly amazed -they had pointy ears and burning hair, and they spoke just like him, how cool was that ?-, and he lost Loki at least five times. He halted at what seemed to be a bar, and interrupted two Jötuns in a solemn political talk -something about a dead King, a dead Prince, and an untalented Second Heir- to ask for directions, and he ran anew, spent and drowning in his own perspiration, but irremediably delighted to be _here_.

Ultimately, he made it out of the Citadel, and got back on Finnandi's track, as the traces of his wide paws marked the humid soil of the moor.

“Loki !” he called, using his hands as a bullhorn, while he trotted wearily towards the hills.

“I am here !” his companion finally answered, his voice stifled by the wind and the song of the river that passed nearby.   
“And where's that, you oblivious gazelle ?” he yelled back, rolling his eyes.

“I have no idea, my Prince, please follow my voice, I must not lose the wolf !”

“He's still running ? Where to ? Is there a village out there ?”

“Not that I can see !”

And so they shouted, and ran, for half an hour of endless race. By the moment Tony finally saw Loki again, he was pretty much assured he would die of a heart attack in the next ten minutes.

“Is he slowing down ?” he wondered, a glimmer of hope passing through his reddish face as he finally caught up with his partner.

“He seems to have found something”, the Asgardian confirmed, his breath barely short, while Tony's was lost somewhere between the City and the blue peak they had reached. No sign of civilization other than the Citadel was visible from here. Only grass, hills, more grass, more hills, and Finnandi, nose against the ground, sniffing conscientiously every single inch of turf that covered the round protuberance they were standing upon.

“What the hell can he be looking for, here ?” the Prince eventually managed to ask, pointing at the ground. “We're looking for a man, not a buried bone, Finn”, he reminded the cub, suddenly suspicious. “Finn ? Hey, boy, what are you doing ?”

No answer -of course not. The young wolf suddenly froze, and sank his claws in the mellow soil, marking it with a round shape onto which he dropped the portrait, before chirping in satisfaction and sitting next to his _chef-d'oeuvre_ , eyes on his two temporary masters.

Two temporary masters who remained mute, staring at each-other in utter incomprehension.

“A man can be a buried bone, can he not ?” Loki ultimately whispered, his face suddenly turning as white as the cub's fur.

Tony frowned. He narrowed his sight at the Asgardian, then at the trace the wolf had left in the grass.

“Damn”, he mouthed, gritting his teeth.

Just a second after, Finnandi was licking at both of their hands and yapping in a somewhat apologetic way. And then he was gone. Their time was up.

“What do we do now ?” the Human whispered.

Loki shook his head. His hands tightened in two tense fists.

“We dig.”

 


	17. Beyond The Grave

“We dig”, Tony repeated, as if it could make his partner's assertion any clearer. “May I ask why ?” he dared to add, the stare on Loki's face only making the question doubly uncomfortable for him to ask.

“I need to be sure”, the Asgardian impatiently whispered, as he knelt to the ground and proceeded to claw his fingers into the muddy soil.

The Human remained silent for a few seconds. He lowered a confused glance at Loki's nervy features and slightly shaking hands.

“You need to be sure he's the guy we're looking for ?” he ultimately wondered, allowing himself to squat down, in front of him. His eyes sought the dark-haired man's feverish gaze, in vain. Loki only looked at the dirt that sullied his hands, and through which he relentlessly dug, and dug. Eventually, he nodded, and Tony could clearly tell his lips were quivering.

“Hey, I understand”, he murmured, gently, one hand reaching his busy shoulder, pressing it in a silent attempt to comfort the troubled thoughts he could now guess in his lover's – were they really lovers ? The question struck him for a second – mind.

“I do not believe you truly do”, the former slave snapped at him, his jaw tense, his eyes burning with contained tears of what Tony imagined to be a mix of frustration, anguish, doubt. “My Prince”, he added, after a long moment of silence, during which the Midgardian stared at him with slight indignation and uneasy hesitation.

“Let go of the Prince”, Tony finally muttered, biting at his inner lip and retrieving his hand. “You're right. I can't _truly_ understand”, he admitted. “But I can help”, he offered, leaving aside the anger he had heard in Loki's voice and steadying himself on his knees as he began to dig along with him.

Silence fell between them, again, building its walls thicker and thicker through their nervous gestures and nonexistent eye contact. For five interminable minutes, only the swish of the mud being moved over and piled up in two separate heaps dared to break the muteness of the moor.

“Thank you”, Loki ultimately let out, once they had reached a different type of soil – a slightly sandy, reddish one. “Never has anyone cared so much for me”, he whispered. And as he said it, he realized how true it was. “You should not be here with me; you should be with your people, preparing your coronation. And I certainly should not be so- _emotional_ about this investigation. I apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier.”

He glanced at him, for a split second, his whole body still and tight, then went back to delving into his hopeless hopes.

“You're quite the fascinating type”, Tony eventually smiled, softly. “But you already know that, I think. Though I admit there _is_ a difference between caring for someone and being fascinated by them”, he thought out loud, while he kept on digging. “Anyway, the point is- I'm not a Prince, here. Not Anthony of House Stark, Heir to the Throne of the State of York. So who's left ? Tony Stark, right ? A guy who likes you very much, cause you're adorable, now and then, and clever, always, a guy who therefore doesn't like seeing you all sad and agitated. Also, a scientist, who always wanted to travel the worlds. See ? There's no version of this where stirring up some Vanir dirt, with you, today, was a regrettable choice, in any way. I don't regret it, you shouldn't regret it, and I'm telling you: whatever it is we find when we're done digging, it won't be the end, I promise. I won't stop asking, and running around like the idiot I certainly am sometimes, until you know why you feel like you've been to this creepy old house before. Does that sound right to you ?”

Loki blinked. For a whole minute, flapping his lids seemed to be the only action he was still capable of. He had _not_ expected _that_.

“Why, y-yes, I”, he stammered and blushed slightly, locked in immobility, his hands buried in the blood red tinted sand, hair still messy from the run and eyes veiled with incompatible emotions. “Thank you”, he managed to reiterate, as Tony's amused yet tender smile led him to blush anew.

He quickly brought his eyes back on his task. And they dug, together, in silence, for ten, twenty, forty minutes.

“Would've been a lot easier with shovels”, Tony eventually jested, though they had managed to create a quite respectably deep and wide excavation.

The soil was getting strangely warmer as they kept on going further. The eternally curious part of his mind was already ecstatic with curiosity at the idea of discovering yet a new type of clay.

But it was not clay his nails met when he clamped them into the ground for the umpteenth time.

“Fuck”, he sputtered as he frantically moved back, causing Loki to startle in stupefaction. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's skin. That's Human- Elvish- Vanir- _I don't know what_ \- skin. And that's a leg. Not a bone, not a femur, not a tibia, _it's a whole fucking leg.”_

“It is not possible”, the Asgardian refuted, browns knitted in an incredulous frown.

“Look at it! It's- It's still warm!” Tony chirped in childish horror, a horror he reluctantly overcame as he dusted the incriminated body part from the thin layer of sand that still covered it.  
“Meaning there probably is an entire body attached to it”, Loki deduced, after a second of pure denial. “Quick, help me”, he requested as he started digging with more energy, yet more delicacy, than ever before.

“I don't get it”, Tony muttered as he forced himself into imitating his partner. “I really, really, really don't get- AH!” He muffled his shocked exclamation against his palm, as Loki unveiled a whole, peach-colored, white-bearded, asleep-looking _face_. “It's- It's him. It's the apothecary. Fuck, I should've brought a paper bag”, he groaned, face buried in one hand.

“He shows no sign of rigor mortis”, Loki diagnosed, making a point of ignoring his Human's understandable but useless reactions. “Yet the soil definitely has not been disturbed recently.”

“Even not that recently, if you'll ask me”, Tony gulped uneasily. “Hell, there was a whole rug of four-inch _grass_ on top of him.”

“Magic has been involved in the burial process.”

“How can you know that ? Do you feel it ?”

“I am no magician, Anthony. Not that I know, at least”, Loki murmured, his features clenching for a second as he unearthed an inert hand. “It simply is the only possible conclusion, I- Norns. Oh. Oh, Norns.”

“What ? What's going on ? Something bit you ? Are there dangerous sand creatures on Vanaheim ? Did we just get a bad spell cast on us ? Do you even still hear me ? Please tell me we're not already dead !”

“Shut it !” the Asgardian burst out. “Please, Anthony, do shut- No, in fact, tell me- Tell me I am not the prey of my own wishes, tell me- Touch his wrist. Touch it!” he squealed when Tony vividly shook his head in distinct refusal.

“Why ?” the Human mumbled both in disgust and incomprehension, as he finally obeyed. “What is it, what did you-”

He froze. For a moment, he felt just as if all of his bodily processes had simply stopped functioning. He was no better than dead. And the wrist of a man who could not be anything other than dead was _pulsing_ against his fingers.

***

“Your solemnity worries me, King Thor”, Pepper murmured, the smile she had tried her best to put on for her guest frozen onto her lips, and slowly lowering into a concerned wince.

“Far from me the wish to push any further the disturbances you have lived today, my Lady”, Thor apologized as he wrapped his right hand around the Duchess' thin fingers, gently inviting her to sit anew. “But it is my duty, I believe, to inform you of what I believe to be an important matter.”

“I'm grateful, truly, for your delicacy, Your Majesty. Please, do tell me what seems to burden your mind”, she inquired, a light frown pleating her smooth forehead.

Thor nodded, ever so subtly, as he remained standing and kept quiet for a brief instant.

“I believe there is a possibility for your sister not to have taken her own life”, he then stated, his voice clear and deep.

Virginia, who had cautiously steadied herself onto her armchair, instantly jumped back on her feet, all colors leaving her face, the questions in her eyes silently stabbing both Thor and the unfortunate guard who had just witnessed his career collapse in front of him.

“Please, do not blame him for a fault I pushed him into”, the Asgardian immediately requested from the marble statue she had become again. “I know I overstepped my rights, as a King and as a guest, by making him relate to me this tragic event, but my worries were genuine, and so is the shock I am into since I know the circumstances of this terrible happening.”

“ _Shock_ is a fairly well chosen word for this situation, Your Majesty”, Pepper snapped as she withdrew her hand from his, her voice tense with anger and forced politeness.

“I am terribly sorry, please, do believe me”, he repeated, keeping his eyes low as a child who would have been caught red handed, face blushing with the fear to lose the salvation he had only just found. “But even if it must be the last thing I do on Midgard, because it is your right to send me away, I need to disclose the facts that I believe to be a possible alternative to the only truth you know.”

He bowed to her, fist on his chest, all of his attempted dignity thrown into his last few words. For an endless instant, she remained silent.

“Guard, leave us”, she finally commanded, before she collapsed on her seat, elbows weakly resting on its padded arms, the slender tips of her fingers seeming to try and keep her temples from tearing wide open. “Sit down, King Thor, accept my gratitude for your concern, and please, tell me why you think Sinna didn't commit suicide”, she said, slowly, clearly.

And so he did.

“I witnessed a similar case, in my Palace, decades ago”, he began, his voice low and slightly broken by the absurd relief he felt flowing in his veins. “A man, one of the Palace's trainers, was found dead in his apartments, his throat slit by a sharp piece of his own cup, that was discovered next to his hand. He was sitting at his table, and the wine stains among the bloody ones showed he had been drinking. A few empty jars showed he had been drinking _a lot_. All believed that, in a moment of madness caused by his intoxication, he found himself unworthy of living any longer, and proceeded to kill himself.”

“I admit the coincidence is unsettling”, the Duchess whispered after a second of muteness, her eyes lost in the fragment of sky she could see through her window, “but if you all believed he had done it himself, why come and speak of murder to me ? Unless you mean to tell me it was all an accident ?”

“No. Not an accident, my Lady. Murder, indeed”, Thor answered, carefully. “A deserved murder, if I may say.”

“Are you saying my sister too deserved to die ?” she coldly wondered.

“No ! No. I merely am trying to understand why he could have-”

“He ?”

“Yes”, Thor whispered as he bit his inferior lip. “See, the man who died in such a strange way was a trainer.”

“Yes, you've already said so.”

“He was a slave trainer”, the King specified. “I did not hold him in deep affection, to say the least, as nobody really did. I probably would have sent him away if he had not died this very night. All this to bring to your attention that I only _pretended_ to believe he had ended his own life, while I _knew_ he had been killed by one of the slaves he had trained. See, I was the one who discovered his body, only minutes after it had all happened. Sleep was avoiding me, and I was walking in this part of the Castle, when I happened to hear stifled noises in his chambers. As I entered the room, I saw no one but him, dead, the way I told you. But I knew a slave of mine had been here; the air still slightly smelled of the perfume I wanted them all to wear.” He stared into the distance for a second of pensive silence. “I had had rough words with this trainer – Ghöliatt was his name – the day before”, he then pursued, “for a reason I forget, but what I recall perfectly is that he had sworn revenge. He was a coward as much as a brute, he only dared to be violent when he believed he was the strongest. He knew he could not win a decent combat against me. So he did what a sly and unworthy creature would do; he tried to ravish one of my pleasure servants, for the reasons you can imagine. Obviously, he chose one of those he had trained himself; they were all afraid of him – or at least he thought so – and so he believed they would not dare to disobey. Evidently, he was very much wrong. Attempting to force one of the King's slaves into his own desires was a punishable crime. The slave he tried to take into his bed knew it, and he took the sentence into effect himself. A decent act, even if lawfully wrong”, he concluded as he took another nervous bite at his lip, and finally dared to look at the Duchess again.

The latter remained still and quiet, her shocked expression only growing from a second to another.

“It was Loki”, she finally managed to articulate, her skin pale as death, and at least as scary, as she merged together the two faces of the only Asgardian slave she knew to have come to Earth, ever.

“I never could be sure, but he was the strongest of them all, yes”, the King admitted in a whisper. “He had already proven himself capable of killing a man when said man threatened his life. Maybe Ghöliatt menaced him, or maybe he feared I would repudiate him if I found out he had slept in his bed, or maybe he truly, simply carried out the sentence I would have pronounced myself. I never knew, nor ever thought about it again. But today-”

“Today, it occurred to you that my sister might have threatened the Prince's slave's life, thus leading him to kill her ?”

“I know it must sound ridiculous, my Lady, but-”

“You were right to believe it was of your duty to inform me of this matter, King Thor. I thank you again for your concern and truthfulness”, she cut him off, her expression closed onto the complex process of reflection she had engaged herself into.

It was impossible. Could Sinna have known Loki ? Could they have met ? Had they conspired against Tony ? Had he betrayed her ? On the opposite, had he wished to protect Tony from the maker of this devilish painting he too had seen, like he maybe had tried to protect his former Master's honor ? Had he followed her to Sinna's house ? Was it all her fault ? Was it all a nightmare ?

“I do have a very urgent request, nevertheless”, she said as she straightened her back against her chair, her complexion turning whiter and whiter as seconds passed without Thor saying a word, only slowly moving his head up and down. “For all I know”, she continued, “Loki never met Sinna. Ever. He knew nothing of her existence, and certainly not where she lived. The only way for him to obtain that information was to follow me when I visited her, and I don't tend to trust people who follow me around, King Thor. To me, and I'm sorry to put it this way, sorry because I see you care for him, and sorry because I've grown quite fond of him too, but Loki has the potential of being a very dangerous man, Your Majesty. And I must tell you, even if he never killed for the sole fact of killing before, I truly see no clear reason as to why he would have murdered my sister. And if he did, King Thor... I must also say that, among all of the things I feel as we speak, I'm very, very worried for Tony's security. Please. Bring them back. Now.”

***

“What do we do now ?” Tony whispered as he stared at the living corpse they had entirely unearthed, and who now laid on the blue grass of the hill, still dressed with fresh black and blue clothes, as if he had simply shoved himself into the ground a few minutes ago and fell asleep, for the sake of it. “I mean, we don't have magic, do we ? So how do we... Are we planning on waking him up, is that what we're doing ?”

“He is alive. Therefore, there must be a way to bring him back to consciousness”, Loki murmured, his fingers nervously brushing at the old man's clothing.

Tony sighed slightly, and tried his best to forget the presence of a potential zombie just a few meters away from him. As he narrowed his sight at Loki, he felt a warm vice clamp onto his heart. His lover – lover, were they really lovers ? – seemed so little, so tired and so lost... He closed the distance he had put between them and, sitting next to him, wrapped both arms around his waist, softly.

“I'm sure there is, sweetheart”, he said, “but I'm also quite sure it's a magical one. Maybe we should ask someone from the city ? The neighbors ? Rägn, if he's still there ?”

“To Helheim with Rägn, he would only give us more riddles to solve”, Loki sadly smiled as he shook his head.

“True”, Tony winced, and his fingers absentmindedly ran through the Asgardian long, disheveled hair, in a new, probably ineffective attempt to comfort him.

Loki sighed wearily, and hesitantly allowed his cheek to rest on top of the Human's head, as his own fingers let go of the rough fabric.

“We'll figure something out, Loki”, the Prince gently promised. “I'm sure we- Loki ?”

“He moved”, the former slave mouthed, his eyes wide open, his whole body petrified in a state of shock Tony quite soon followed him into.

Indeed, the dead man was moving.

His lids were fluttering, more precisely.

And soon, they were open. They closed almost immediately, as _he_ rose a clumsy, shaking hand to protect his eyes from the sun.

“Loki”, his lips formulated, his voice not even a whisper, a hoarse breathing.

“He said my name”, the Asgardian dazedly murmured. “My- My name woke him from a spell of eternal sleep.”

“Oh so that's how it's called, I was wondering”, Tony tried to joke, his hands buried in the turf so they would not shake – not too obviously, at least.

“My good man”, Loki eventually managed to say, as his hand met the old man's quivering wrist. “May you say your name, for you seem to know mine ?”

The apothecary blinked, one, two, three times. Was he blind, or blinded only by sunlight ? Tony could not tell at this point. He could not tell much.

Except one thing.

The earth was shaking harder than his hands.

“Loki ?” was all he had time to say, before the Bifröst caught all three of them in its iridescent net.

 


	18. A Game of Chess

“What the- fuck was- that abou- ?!” Tony attempted to shout as his knees met the solid ground of the entry hall. A groan of pure despair left his throat as he frantically tried to restrain his gag reflex.

“Tony”, he heard the distant voice of the Duchess worryingly answer, while he vaguely felt her cold and nervous hands wrap themselves around his shoulders.

“I'm fine, I'm fine”, he growled, despite his stomach clearly stating otherwise, as it danced an erratic jig between his ribs. “What happened ?” he demanded to know, his compromised authority pitifully resounding in the empty room, through which he threw a feverish and confused glance.

“You have been brought back to safety, friend Anthony”, King Thor unexpectedly responded, just as the Prince's eyes met his impossibly large stature and insultingly statuesque face.

“Safet- ? Aw, fuck”, he grumbled, speedily bringing his palm against his mouth to prevent a very disgraceful display from covering the marble slabs of his Tower. “Your Bifröst is very efficient, I'll give you that, buddy, but hell, it could do with a nausea-free spell”, he tried to jest.

An uneasy silence was the sole answer to his words. Obviously, no one really was in the mood for a laugh. Not even him, to be entirely honest. He breathed, heavily, lengthily, and slowly expired the compressed, burning air from his lungs. As his sight went back from a blurred fog to a clearer definition of shapes and colors, he was finally able to establish an approximate portrayal of the situation.

Thor, Pepper, Loki, the apothecary and him were alone in this immense hall, where every single whisper became an echoing roar. The old man – who had just awoken from the dead, a fact which he still could not quite assimilate – seemed almost as ready to faint as he was. His eyes were nearly shut, his whole body was covered in a cloak of shivers. Loki supported him as well as he could, one arm coiled around his waist, his other hand still clawed onto the Vanir's wrist, his nails sinking deep in his flesh, his whole body fixed in the position he had been caught in when they had been abducted by the Rainbow Bridge. He was still and silent, his face white and tense with both incomprehension and worry. His eyes traveled from face to face, as he kept himself as close from Tony as possible, as far from Thor as he could. Pepper, just next to him, stared at the apothecary with utter bewilderment, and Tony could guess a billion question marks behind her eyes. Thor, finally, seemed unsure, and obviously attempted to show a confidence he cruelly lacked at the moment.

“What's going on ?” the Prince asked again, in a frown.

“Who is this man ?” Pepper inquired the same second.

“A witness”, Tony answered, just as his Minister whispered :

“I need to talk to you- A witness ?” she repeated, evidently baffled at the idea that they could actually have found something, _someone_.

“What's going on?” Tony wondered for the third time, straightening his back, a hint of irritation in the eye.

“What is he a witness of ?” Thor barged in.

“He knew the man who tried to kill me”, Loki murmured, avoiding all eye contact.

“Did I ?” the apothecary mouthed, and his lids fluttered yet again.

Everybody startled. Four children meeting a ghost. Said ghost lethargically observed them through his eyelashes. The faint hint of life that emanated from his gaze gave them all the discomforting impression that he knew exactly how this unintelligible situation would unfurl. And still, he remained prostrated in Loki's arms, immobile and barely breathing.

“He is weak”, the former slave eventually managed to state, as if it were not obvious enough. “He needs care.”

“Yes”, Tony agreed in a light cough, attempting to clear his throat from the thorny lump that obstinately obstructed it. “I don't know why we're here, but we might as well make the most of it and get him to the Medical Department.”

“You're here because I feared for you safety, Your Majesty”, the Duchess declared, her voice clear yet weak, her sight never leaving the old man's inoffensive yet inexplicably dangerous expression. “I'll ask for our best doctors to transfer this poor man to the infirmary, but before I do, I need to make sure your security is at its optimum level.”

“I was doing just fine out there, Pepper”, Tony sighed, wearily, “Vanaheim is probably the less dangerous place in the Universe, and-”

“It was not Vanaheim I mistrusted, Tony”, she cut him off, and her eyes moved back to Loki. “Guards ?” she called out, immediately alerting a detachment of six fully equipped soldiers.

Tony froze. Loki tensed. He glanced at Thor, Thor bit his lip. No one dared to move, as the half-dozen armored men ended their disciplined arrival in a synchronized clatter of weapons.

“ _What_ ?” the Prince ultimately hissed.

“Have I ever shown any sign of disloyalty to my Prince ?” Loki wondered, nervously glancing at the threatening exoskeletons that circled him.

“No you haven't ! No he hasn't ! What's your problem ?” Tony shouted at the Duchess.

“My problem is that your lover maybe is a cold-blood killer, Your Highness”, she sharply replied, her features the ones of an offended Empress.

Silence dived upon them all. Tony blinked. Then he did the only sensible thing to do : he laughed incredulously at what could only be a very poor prank.

But Pepper did not indulge in this sort of useless amusements, did she ?

He desperately sought a smile on her lips, in her eyes. She looked at him with regret and sorrow. Obviously, she wished she had been able to release this announcement differently.

He felt himself waver, and took a step back to keep his suddenly heavy, heavy body from falling to the ground. The ten silhouettes that surrounded him seemed so far away, and so surreal. Ten tokens on a marble chess board.

This stupid game.

“I have never, ever, killed for a reason other than overcoming danger, Milady”, he heard Loki murmur, and his voice was white as death, filled with incomprehension and fear.

“Haven't you ?” she replied, her features clenching in a dolorous, wary expression.

“No, he hasn't”, Tony angrily protested, as he finally attempted to regain some control over the situation. “Guards, move away !” he ordered, hustling the division's Captain to rejoin Loki and the still half-unconscious Vanir, whom the Asgardian held against him like a shield, his eyes those of a cornered dear.

“Guards, keep position!” Pepper countered. “You weren't there all along, Tony”, she reminded him, as she nervously gripped his wrist to keep him close to her, far from _him_. “You don't know.”

“And how could _you_ possibly know, huh ?!”

“I don't know, I _fear_ !” she hissed. “Isn't it enough ? Was I to allow a potential criminal to run around with you, without any sort of protection, billions of light-years away from Earth ?”

“You didn't answer my question, Pepper”, he groaned through his teeth.

“I fear I am the cause to all this, friend Anthony”, Thor intervened again.

“You ?” Tony frowned in confusion. “What could you have to do with this ?”

“King Thor”, Pepper let out, and she cast an alarmed glance onto him.

“You've never used your political cant as much as today, haven't you ?” Tony growled at her, and he turned back to the King. “Do continue, _'friend Thor'_ ”, he commanded with a tense smirk.

“ **THOR.** ”

Ten startled bodies jumped an inch above the ground. Loki let out a muffled cry, and stepped back two meters. Their baffled gazes flew to the old Vanir, who stood, alone, in the middle of their improbable circle, suddenly solid as a rock, straight as a tower, his eyes wide open, his arm extended in front of him, his long, gnarled index finger pointing at the Asgardian King.

“Thor”, he said again, and they all caught their breath. “Loki ?” he then inquired, his brows knitted in a worried expression, his face a little less ghostly, a little more- human.

“I am Loki”, the latter nervously murmured, as he cautiously stepped into the old man's field of view.

The nameless stranger laid his eyes on him. And, abruptly, he- broke. He gasped and sighed together, in a confusing display of both dread and relief. His skeletal hands reached out for Loki's wrists, as his knees met the ground, leading the young and terrified Asgardian to fall with him.

_The Rook takes the Knight._

The Vanir shut his eyes anew, and his fingers clenched onto Loki's petrified hands.

No one tried to stop them. Even Pepper, Tony noticed, seemed in an abnormal state of fascination.

_The Rook weakens the Queen._

 

“Loki. Loki. Loki”, he said, and they all listened, because there was no other thing to do. “ _Loptr_. Curse on me”, he lowered his head, “curse on Asgard”, he glanced at Thor, “curse on the traitors”, he looked above, as he could see through the ceiling, “curse on the tormentors. Curse on Asgard. Curse on me. Loki. _Loptr_ , Child of the Everlasting Snows”, his shaking palms slid onto Loki's arms, all the way to his temples, which they gripped in an unwavering vice. “Remember, recover, and avenge”, he mouthed.

 

A thick veil of golden mist abruptly fell onto them. Their undefined shapes writhed together in a roaring combat, as Loki's voice broke into a hoarse cry, of pain and denial.

“LOKI !” Tony heard himself call out, as his legs finally arose from their stillness and desperately ran towards the howling tornado.

“No, Tony, no !” the Duchess shouted, and she clamped her arms around his waist. “Guards ! Guards !” she cried, and soon, the hall was filled with ten, thirty, fifty panicked soldiers, guns pointing at the two screaming silhouettes.

“No !” Tony roared. “Don't fire ! _It's an order_! Don't fire ! It's over ! See ! _It's over._ ”

What was over, that no one could tell. But the wailing hurricane had already began to quiet down, its blinding haze slowly lifting up. The old magician – because what else could he be ? – laid on the ground, unconscious, maybe dead – for all that death could mean for a man like him.

“Don't fire”, Tony frantically repeated, as he freed himself from Pepper's grip, and rose a hesitant hand towards Loki's bent figure. “Loki ?”

For ten seconds, only silence came in response. Then a voice he did not know, deep and glacial, ascended from a furled, unrecognizable body.

“There is no Loki”, the voice said, and Tony felt himself freeze yet again, petrified by the hate he could feel vibrating through the air.

Where his frightened, confused companion (?) stood a minute earlier, a Frost Giant, skin blue as the deep seas and eyes red as blood, slowly unfolded from his embryonic posture, and dominated them all with a deathly, yet sorrowful gaze.

“It cannot be”, he heard Thor whisper, as every other soul in the room had made the wise choice of keeping quiet.

“Can it not ?” the Giant Tony could simply not identify as Loki coldly retorted, as his bloody gaze lowered to the Asgardian. “Will you pretend you ignored the truth, King of Tormentors ?” he asked in a bloodcurdling, slow hiss.

Thor's lips parted in utter shock. A painful glow filled his eyes, as his confusion overwhelmed his whole body, leaving him still as a mountain. Then, only then, Tony realized how unaware this poor idiot had been of the pain he had inflicted to his servant.

“I ignored it”, the King stuttered, his voice beseeching the Giant to understand, to forgive, “Loki, I swear- I never knew-”

“ **LIAR** !”

He had roared, more than he had screamed. Taking advantage of the split second during which they all stared at him with paralyzed terror, he threw himself at the distressed Asgardian, swift as a snake, mad as an enraged lion. Simultaneously, ten guards took aim at him.

“ **NO** !” Tony screamed in horror.

Seven shots lost themselves in the walls. Three of them burnt their way through the Jötun's back. In the abominable sound of his ribs shattering inside his chest, he fell at Thor's feet, as the latter had barely risen an arm to protect himself, his eyes widened in harrowing disbelief.

“ _No_ !” Tony cried anew, his voice only a strangled exhalation, as he fought against his soldiers to meet the Giant on the cold, blood-tinted ground. “Loki ! _Loki_ , no, no, no !”

“ _THERE IS NO LOKI_ !” the wounded one spurted out with impossible strength, when the Prince fell at his side and frantically attempted to stem the hemorrhage. “There never was, do you- do you hear me, Prince of the Weak, Spoiled Child from Midgard ?” he spewed as he desperately tried to hit Thor's legs, striking, scratching, biting the air which merely succeeded to fill his drilled lungs. “I am no slave, nor filthy Asgardian. I am _Loptr_ , I am a King, I am a warrior, I am a killer- I took so many Golden Lives, you could not count them with all your pitiful science- Your precious Duchess was right”, he laughed, a hysteric, dying laugh, the laugh of a man who had nothing left to lose, “I am a killer- I killed her sister, I slit her throat open and- left her to empty herself from her miserable blood- Do you know why, do you know how ? I followed your- precious Duchess- And I heard- Oh, Sinna Prometh could have _killed you_ , she was so- angry that her precious husband had been- left to die in your precious mines- And your precious Duchess did nothing to stop her- She left, and she kept- the truth from you- She _betrayed_ you- They will all betray you in the end- Everybody lies, everybody betrays- _Everybody_ -”

His laugh reached a terrifying high, then slowly turned into a cry, a gulp, a sob. Blood poured between his lips. A single tear rolled down his frozen cheek. His eyes shut.

_The Pawns take the Knight._

_The Queen betrays the King._

***

“Guards ?” Tony heard himself whisper, after a minute, an hour, a year, maybe. “Please escort the Duchess to her apartments.”

“Tony”, she begged, and he could feel her shaking from head to toe, right behind him. He could imagine her perfectly steady features crumbling as their world collapsed. He could feel his own, stupidly fragile heart curl up in a corner of his chest, and slowly die, led to the grave by the cold body he still held in his arms.

“One thing at a time, Pepper”, he murmured, eyes fixed onto Loki's open wounds. “You taught it to me. One thing at a time. Please, leave.”

“Prince Anthony”, Thor intervened, his voice the one of a very, very old man, and a very, very scared child. “I do not believe-”

“King Thor, _I do not believe_ I asked for your opinion”, the Human replied, his face dangerously neutral as he lifted his gaze up to meet the Asgardian's remorse-filled eyes.

“You- You have no right to believe that you only are affected by the present tragedy, nor that you only are qualified to design its right outcome, Prince of Midgard”, Thor growled, in a vain attempt to express anger, when he so clearly felt nothing but pain, fear, and regret. “I too held Loki in deep affection, whatever you might think.”

“I know he held none of us in any form of affection whatsoever, in the end, King of Asgard”, Tony retorted, and his voice broke, for a split instant. “In this, yes, we are equal, I believe”, he concluded, a faint, gloomy smile twisting his mouth. “As my equal, then, will you please command my troops to leave ? Two guards will accompany the Duchess to her chambers, four will stay, and will help me carry the two bodies to their rightful place”, he enunciated, slowly, almost softly.

His tone was so out of place, so peaceful, that for a moment, his soldiers seemed to believe he had gone mad – which he maybe had, in the end.

“Have you not heard him ?” Thor eventually thundered at them, after a long, silent debate with himself, his repressed grief exploding in what remained of his authority. “Do as he said ! You six, stay with us”, he commanded, pointing at the half-dozen men who had intervened first.

“King Thor”, Pepper implored him, her voice a mere breath, a trembling murmur.

“You do need to rest, Milady”, he hesitantly argued, his eyes low. “Rest assure that no harm will be done to you”, he promised, his hand reaching for hers, pressing it briefly, nervously. “Guards”, he then ordered.

The two youngest soldiers volunteered to escort the weakening Duchess to her apartments.

“Tony”, she cried, hopelessly seeking his gaze.

The latter kept quiet, and distant. Soon, she was gone.

 _Queenmate_.

“The four of you”, Thor muttered after ten endless seconds of burdensome muteness, “help us carry the two bodies.”

“The two bodies ?” a voice inquisitively repeated, from a corner of the room they had paid no attention to, in the past minutes.

A shiver of shock slid down Tony's spine. Tense as a thunderstorm, he turned to the old Vanir, who had – of course – brought himself back to conscience – or life ? – and now stood straight and still, between two fences of prudent soldiers. The Prince and the King simultaneously tightened their hands into fists.

“ _What have you done to him_ ?” Thor growled, as his palms of steel closed onto the magician's collar. “Look ! Look at what you have done !” he scolded as he forced him on the bloody ground.

“Do not make me responsible for more crimes that I am guilty of, King of the Cursed Kingdom”, the old man retorted with unexpected strength, as a spark of his magic freed him from Thor's grip.

“Asgard is not cursed !” the King groaned, while he cautiously stepped back, his eyes now wide with more fear than anger.

“Asgard is the House of Spiders and Snakes, it is cursed as much as I am.”

“You-”

“ _Silence_ !” Tony yelled at them both. “You !” he feverishly pointed at the Vanir, hate and hope casting a surreal gleam onto his face. “You will tell me the truth. All the truth. But before... Bring him back”, he ordered, and his index finger fell back onto Loki's glacial torso.

And to that, the old man dared to answer with a smile. The Prince blinked in disbelief, and enraged despair.

“I'll kill you for this”, he hissed, his heart beating as a war drum, “once and for all, I guarantee you, I will-”

As he attempted to get back on his feet, discovering how weak the past moments had led his body to become, he laid his whole palm onto Loki's chest.

And all of a sudden, these lungs who had been burst open by the fire of his own soldiers, these lungs in the blood of which the Giant had drowned, these lungs moved upwards, against his hand.

_Checkmate._

Witnessing this impossible movement from afar, Thor let out a gasp _._

“...How ?” Tony managed to chirp, as he drew his free hand above Loki's mouth. “He's breathing”, he diagnosed, his voice faltering in disbelief, and joy, and fear. “Did you...?”

“I did nothing, my good Prince”, the nameless magician gently denied.

“But he was dead !” Thor protested as he recovered the gift of speech.

“He was not”, the nameless man countered. “You believed he was.”

“He had his lungs perforated, for hell's sake !” the Midgardian exclaimed.

“To a Frost Giant and a Grand Sorcerer, this is no lethal injury”, the Vanir simply stated, as a spark of worry suddenly went through his face.

 _He heals swiftly_ , Tony abruptly remembered. _Who was Loki ?_ A Grand Sorcerer. And a Frost Giant. All the answers, and none at the same time, he bitterly thought, before he noticed the dark apprehension that veiled the old man's eyes.

“What?” he nervously asked. “Guards, help me- We're bringing him to the infirmary.”

“Your concern for him honors you, Midgardian, but you ought to be careful”, the stranger slowly stated. “Soon he will remember how to use the whole of his powers, and soon he will chase down all those who have wronged him.”

“I've never wronged him”, Tony growled. “Never.”

“I have never wished to”, Thor then whispered, eyes on the floor. “Never.”

“Yeah, I think he'll still try to end you”, Tony curtly commented.

“Wrongfully”, the magician unexpectedly observed.

“How would you know ?” the Prince frowned, as he carefully lifted Loki's head up, while two of the remaining guards brought a stretcher and cautiously laid the wounded Giant into it.

“It is a long and painful story to tell, Prince of Midgard. As soon as _he_ will be taken good care of, I will make it known to you, as you commanded me”, the old man peacefully promised, raising one hand in the air.

“You better”, Tony mouthed, as he monitored Loki's respiration yet again. “ _Remember, recover, and aveng_ e, that's what you told him”, he pursued. “You _want_ him to take revenge on 'those who have wronged him', don't you ?”

“I do, indeed”, the Vanir confirmed, as they all moved towards the Royal Medical Department, Thor closing the march, his steps uncertain and his face pale with doubt, and anguish. 

“Why am I not one of them, in your eye, if _he_ so clearly wishes me dead ?” he inquired.

“Because you were tricked into becoming his involuntary tormentor, King of the Cursed Land, and because his memories, which I returned to him, do not make mention of this trickery."

Thor's head tilted slightly. As they reached the infirmary, he pursed his lips, and caught up with the magician, his eyes anxiously traveling from him to Loki's still inert body, whom was being transferred into a long, white bed.

“Am _I_ cursed ?” he whispered to the old man, while Tony frenziedly freed the Giant from what remained of his upper clothing, and plugged him to a plethora of beeping devices.

“Your Kingdom is”, the Vanir eluded.

The Asgardian nervously crossed his arms.

“What can I do to break such a malediction ?” he mouthed, so low he could hardly hear himself.

“Avoid to be cursed yourself”, the sorcerer answered in a slight smile.

Thor rose both eyebrows. A wind of relief blew through his chest.

“So- Am I not cursed yet ?”

“You never _chose_ to torment the one you called Loki, did you ?”

“Never", he swore, explicitly outraged at this sole idea. 

"Do you believe you would have released him, if he had made it known to you that being by your side only brought him sorrow, and shame ?"

"I would have", he said, without hesitation, his face an embodiment of remorse.

“You always did what you believed was asked from you, or what you thought to be a natural state of things”, the Vanir then tranquilly stated.

“I believe I did”, Thor murmured, both in shame and hope, a strange combination of feelings that left him hanging on his interlocutor's every word.

“Then you are not cursed”, the old man peacefully deduced. “Maybe, if you find in yourself the wit and strength to see and do _what should be done_ , maybe will you never be cursed, and maybe will you save your Realm from its doom.”

“Okay, Thor's a blind idiot but not a deliberate criminal”, Tony impatiently intervened before Thor could properly respond to this hopeful prophecy. “Who should Loki take revenge upon, then ?”

“Firstly ?” the magician inquired, as his gaze flew towards the Jötun's recovering wounds.

“Yes.”

“Myself.”

 


	19. And the Truth Will Set You Free

“You ?” Tony ultimately managed to articulate, past the few seconds of frozen incredulity that followed the old man’s declaration. “What have you done ? Why would he- Why would _you_ want _him_ to kill _you_ ?”

“You will soon know, young Prince”, the Vanir promised, his eyes filled with a serenity that simply could not be – at least, that Tony could not possibly assimilate.

“Why- But-” The Human desperately brought his hands to his temples, in a vain attempt to organize his erratic thoughts. “Okay. Why didn’t he try to decapitate you the second he got his memories back ?” he asked, his eyes flying to the immobile and dangerous hands of the man he thought he knew – a little.

“Remember, I was laying unconscious on the ground, recovering. He most certainly believed me dead already. Moreover, his hate for the Asgardian King was so ancient, and so deep, it probably was the only thing he could think of.”

“Oh, may the Norns bless you for reminding me this”, the said King groaned from the corner he had stepped back to, his arms nervously crossed in front of his chest.

“In your own time, if you are smart enough, you will find the way to forgiveness in his heart”, the magician peacefully replied, with a comforting (?) glance at the anxious Aesir. “For now, I believe it would be wise from you to leave the room. If he sees you when he wakes...”

“If we must follow your ‘logic’, you should leave too”, Tony reminded him, sharply. “However, since it’s about time you explain the reasons to all this mess, and since I’m not leaving Loki’s side, you’ll both stay here until I finally understand _something_. First things first, Sir Magic : what’s your actual name ?”

The Vanir raised a genuinely surprised eyebrow. Finally, a decent reaction, Tony thought to himself.

“I retrieved myself the right to possess a name of my own, Your Majesty”, the stranger finally answered, and his voice shook in his throat, for a split second.

Both the Midgardian and the Asgardian stared at him with incredulous amazement.

“You _what_ ?!” Tony exclaimed, before he vividly tilted his head from left to right, both hands lifting up in the air, as if they could freeze all this nonsense for a few seconds. “Okay, no, stop, I don’t care. Just tell me why. Why everything. And start from the beginning. Now.”

Silent and absorbed in his intricate thoughts, Thor simply nodded in approval, and made one step towards the Vanir, in a hesitant, mute question. The old magician rose a hand, in a mute ask for peace, and patience. He lowered his head, and contemplated the ground for ten whole seconds, that left both Tony and Thor beaming with irritation.

“Do you know of Jötunheim ?” the Vanir eventually questioned, his gaze rising up to Tony.

“By name, yes”, he hastily retorted. “The Realm of Ice, home to the Frost Giants. Where Loki comes from, right ?”

“There is no Loki”, Thor intervened in a hoarse whisper, that led the Human to frown. “He is Loptr”, the Aesir specified. “But how can he be ?” he then murmured, and he looked so lost, so terrified, that Tony almost pitied him.

“Who the hell is Loptr ?!” he however grunted – because he too was lost, and he hated every second of it.

“Loptr was the Heir Prince to the Throne of Jötunheim, my dear Prince”, the magician explained, as their eyes all ran towards the inert silhouette of the healing Giant. “His father and mother, the King Laufey and the Consort Farbauti, whom he was the only child, were both killed in the Great Battle of Utgard, when the Asgardians attempted to take over their World-”

“They _what_ ?” the Prince hissed, as he threw a deathly gaze at the only Asgardian in the room.

“This was two centuries ago, and under the reign of my father”, Thor protested vehemently. “Peace has been settled since; the treaty was signed just months after this terrible event.”

“Were you there ?” Tony coldly inquired, his sight narrowing at him with utter mistrust.

“I- I was. I was the Prince. The Heir. The Heir must lead at least a division into battle. I had no choice.”

“You killed Loki’s people !” the Midgardian burst in fury, and only his wish no to disturb his lover’s (?) recovery kept him from initiating physical hostility. “Where was he ? Loptr ? Was he there ? Did he fight ? He was a warrior, he said so ! Was he taken prisoner ? Is that how it happened, huh ?” he spat out, his irises burning with anger, and pain.

“No !” the King desperately denied. “No, never- Yes, he was there- He fought- _I fought him_ , for a moment, but he was not taken prisoner- _There was no winner_ , in this battle- This is why our Realms made peace. I swear to the Norns, I never knew who he was before today- I never knew where he came from in the first place- He was given to me by my First Counsellor Fälinn, as a present.”

“And when did that happen, if I may ask, my King ?” the Vanir calmly intervened, just as Tony was ready to pull out his own hair, going mad with the Aesir’s impossible naivety.

“I- I don’t recall precisely”, Thor nervously responded, taken aback by the unexpected interrogation. “More than fifteen decades ago, certainly, but...”

“He was given to you two centuries ago, King Thor, by Counsellor Fälinn – by the man who oversaw the entirety of the negotiations with Jötunheim. Was he not ?”

“He- He was”, the King hesitantly confirmed, after an instant of tense silence.

“He was given to you just weeks after Prince Loptr reportedly died of sorrow, alone in his Ice Castle, mortally wounded in his body and soul by the passing of his parents. A sad legend, do you not think ?”

“I- I cannot remember such detail- It was so- This period was so hazy, so…”

“Oh, I am sure it was”, the Vanir quietly approved, his features still showing no emotion whatsoever. “The young Jötun Prince dies, leaving the Realm in the hands of his Uncle Thjazi, now Regent of Jötunheim. Not even a month later, the old and tired King of Asgard, Odin Borsson, falls into his Sleep, from which he never wakes. To console the poor Asgardian Heir, his Counsellor gives him a young, beautiful slave, who has been tamed by the best trainers in the Palace, surely. A very dizzying time, indeed.”

“I- I- I don’t understand”, Thor pleaded in a weak murmur.

“I do.”

Tony’s voice was deep and threatening. He gave a deathly glance to the old magician, whose expression still had not changed.

“It’s time you tell your story in its entirety, Man Without a Name”, he ordered, curtly.

“There is not much more to tell, Midgardian, if your mind has already cast its light onto what has been hidden in the dark. But is it such a surprise to you, King Thor”, he pursued, as he turned to the latter, “if I tell you that everything, from the Battle of Utgard to the enslavement of a Prince, has been plotted by a spider, a bug in the golden machinery of your government, a silent monster who caught you, your Realm, and the Realm of Ice, into his web ? Is it a surprise to you, that Counsellor Fällin made a pact with Regent Thjazi, that they both nurtured the tensions between Asgard and Jötunheim, in order to create a war into which the King and the Consort, fierce and proud warriors, would mysteriously die, weakened in battle by a sly, ignominious poison ? Is it such an astonishment that Loptr, Heir to the Throne, whose magic helped resisting to the effects of this same poison during battle, was kept hostage in his own Palace, then taken by Fälinn to be killed and never be heard of again ? That Fälinn chose to keep him alive, to have perfect domination over both Asgard and Jötunheim, if his pacts with the Regent were to ever be broken ? Does it not seem so very logical, that he pushed your father into his Eternal Sleep, only to have you, his malleable son, inside his claws ? That he gave you a pleasure slave named Loki, specifically designed to look just like your ideal of male beauty, to make you forget what mattered, and to soil your name, maybe, one day, by revealing the true identity of your favorite ? That he played you all, because he enjoyed it, and because it would all lead him, ultimately, to be the most powerful being of Yggdrasil ? Is this all a surprise to you, King of Asgard, or have your eyes been at least partly open, once in your never-ending childhood ?”

Silence.

_Checkmate._

At last, there was a spark in the old man’s pupils. His pale, tired flesh glowed with the red of revolt, and his lips were pursed in a dolorous wince.

Thor could have been on his death bed, he would not have appeared so sick, so scared, so weak. He wavered, and only the wall behind his back kept him from falling to the ground.

“Fälinn is the one who advised you to offer Loki to me, is he not ?” Tony eventually murmured, hands closed into fists.

“He- He is”, the Asgardian stuttered, past a long, long minute. “He- He wanted us to be friends- Because… Your machine- It made you a powerful ally-”

“Or a dangerous enemy to his plans. He plotted to trick me into the same trap he tricked you into. Eventually, he would’ve revealed Loki’s identity, found a way to make us two look like the slavers, the villains, and have the people of Jötunheim rise against the Regent, you, me. Chaos. Over which he could have come clean, and omnipotent”, he concluded, bitterly.

With these words, Thor’s head danced from right to left, slowly, never-endingly, and the evolution of his thoughts could be read as words on paper, upon his transparent face.

_The five stages of Human grief, by Kübler-Ross._

_Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance._

And _A_ _nger_ again, because he was not quite Human, was he.

“I will destroy him”, the King mouthed through his teeth, gritting them together in an unsettling grinding. “He will die screaming for my mercy. The truth will be made known, and Loki will be returned to his people. His Realm will be his again.”

“I agree with the general idea”, Tony murmured with a gloomy smirk, “but I still want to make something sure”, he tempered as he turned to the Vanir. “Fälinn made _you_ give Loki an Asgardian form, didn’t he ? That’s why you cursed yourself. You _helped_ him”, he hissed.

“I did far worse, gentle Prince”, the old man whispered, and for the first time, the spark in his eye turned dull and grim, as he lowered his sight. “Oh, I could plead that he threatened my son, my apprentice, my Valo, but”, he shook his head, “I have no excuse, and deserve no forgiveness.”

“We will be the judges of that”, Thor countered, the stormy blue of his irises glowing with a dangerous light, a strength he had lacked for so long. “What did you do to him ?”

A nervous tic shook the corner of the old man’s mouth. Anxiously, he laid his back against the wall, and lost his gaze in the distance, somewhere behind the vast window-bay, in the gray swirls that colonized the sky.

“I erased his memory”, he ultimately confessed, his voice hardly a breath. “I erased his memory, and I changed his body to its core- My house- It was filled with his screams, as I, as I tore him apart, as I extracted his magic from his heart. I took him everything, everything. He could not even cry, in the end. He was nothing. A polished statue, empty, empty. I tried… Oh, I tried to leave him something. A hint of rebellion, a spark of power, a fierceness… But I saw only sorrow- For two hundred years, his life has been nothing but sorrow.” His voice broke; he buried his head between his hands. “Curse on me, curse on the traitor- I am the traitor, do you not see ? A magician, a healer- I broke everything, my vows, my life, his life… My Valo… You have seen my portrait, in my poor, deserted home, have you not ? You have seen his, then, is it not right ? Is he not beautiful ? I adopted him when he was only a baby… A Child of the City, found under the Grand Gate… He had such beautiful magic in him… I wanted him to become a healer, too- He was such a good child- This night, he saw everything- He heard… Oh, I could not look him in the eye again, ever. The curse was on me- He did not deserve to be cursed, he did not ! I sent him away… Before I buried myself, only to be awakened if the name of Loki was ever to cross my path again, before I gave my wolf cub to the Elf, in hope that, maybe… It was too much for him to take, he could not- I sent him away. On Midgard. Hidden, protected from me, from my horror, and from them all… Maybe you have seen him without even knowing”, he laughed, a laugh filled with contained tears, painful regret. “Maybe he is happy, here, today… The curse was on me; he needed to be spared.”

He nodded, evidently attempting to comfort himself in his delusional beliefs. The three of them remained quiet for a minute, a day, a year, maybe. In the white, aseptic room, only Loki’s heavy breathing and irregular heartbeat were left to be heard.

“His magic glowed red, didn’t it ?” Tony eventually whispered, his voice an exhalation of resigned sadness.

“Yes- Yes, it did !” the surprised magician smiled; a smile of love and pride. “It was so beautiful… Oh, have you met him ? How is he, how-”

His words abruptly died on the tip of his tongue.

“I cannot feel him”, he whispered, his whole body turning into one, silent distress call. “I should feel him- So little magic on Midgard- I should see him perfectly. Where- He-”

Tony bit his lip, kept quiet.

“It was no coincidence that Loptr and you traveled to Vanaheim, was it not ?” the old man shakily wondered.

The Prince slowly shook his head.

“No”, he murmured. “We were investigating. A young magician came to Loki’s room, one night, here, on Earth, and tried to kill him, upon the orders of another. Loki defended himself. He killed him. We wanted to know who he was. Vanaheim was apparently the center of all magic in Yggdrasil. So here we went”, he explained, mechanically, uneasily. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”, he added in a breath of sincere desolation.

The Man Without a Name shivered. His spine straightened, then collapsed. A billion of silent questions pierced through his drowning eyes, as he sought support into Tony’s saddened gaze, Thor’s solemn features, Tony again, Thor anew. No comfort came.

“I prayed for punishment”, he finally cried, quietly. “Punishment came. A life for a life. I ignore why I hoped”, he thought out loud, and his words broke again in a lifeless laugh. “Everything is as it should be. Only left for me to die”, he concluded, and he stepped towards Loki’s bed. “Leave me with him. He will wake. I will expiate for my crime. And you will fight with him, for him. Will you not ?”

“We will”, Tony confirmed, calmly. “But for this, we need you alive. You’re our only living witness. Guards ? Escort him to my chambers. I want him safe. Thor… You and I must discuss a war plan, I believe.”

“I- I cannot remain here any longer, knowing that Fälinn is ruling Asgard in my absence, friend Anthony”, the King protested as the devastated magician was carried away by two nervous soldiers.

“You can’t barge in there without a plan either”, the Human reminded him.

“Have you ever planned a political battle, Prince of Midgard ?”

“Have _you_ , King of Asgard ?” Tony replied, lifting his chin up in a defiant attitude.

“No”, Thor admitted, before biting at his upper lip, hesitantly. “But we both know a woman who did”, he eventually added.

“She lied to me”, the Prince hissed, his jaw tensing.

“She was in an impossible situation”, the Aesir pleaded. “She never would have allowed he sister to harm you. She simply needed time-”

“She should have trusted me and told me the truth !”

“Maybe !” Thor growled, impatiently. “But as far as counsellors go, Human, I believe you have been fairly well provided, as compared to me ! We _need_ her !”

“… You go and see her. I need to think. Besides, you can’t stay here. Loki _will_ try to kill you. I’ll stay. I did nothing to harm him, maybe I’ll be able to...”

“To ?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see. Leave us, now. _Please_ ”, he added, tiredly. “I’ll keep you informed. You _both_. Is that decent enough for you ?”

The King stared at him for a few seconds, seeking a sign of deception in his eyes. Apparently, he saw none. Soon, finally, Tony was left alone, with Loki – with Loptr. _Loptr_.

Loptr whose wounds were still closing, slowly, surely, under the tight bandages the medics had wrapped around his chest.

Tony monitored his vital signs for the umpteenth time, made sure the door was locked, walked back in forth in front of the white bed, for ten, twenty, thirty minutes.

When his short legs got tired of standing in vain, he dragged a padded chair next to the aseptic berth and allowed his weary body to crash into it, as a nervous sigh slid between his lips.

For the next hour, he remained still and mute, contemplating the unresponsive features of the man he had called his lover so many times, without knowing the most infinitesimal thing about him. And now that he knew _everything_ … Only now did he seem like a stranger.

Irony, irony, irony…

Oh, he could recognize him. The shape of his nose, the height of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips.

But how could he dare to touch him again ? How could he _have ever dared_ to touch him, knowing that he had been treated, at the very best, like a lifeless peace of meat ?

Remorse and doubt and fear: they filled him to the core, and they were still bringing salty, burning rivers under his lids, when Loki’s -Loptr’s- eyes opened.

They startled, together, when their glances collided.

“Loptr”, Tony murmured, as he stood up, his hands nervously tied together.

No answer.

“How do you feel ?” he inquired, stupidly, blindly.

The Jötun could kill him with a thought, if said thought were to ever cross his mind.

And yet, he was still alive, as the Giant simply stared at him, in silence.

“Untie me”, the deep, ragged voice eventually commanded, as the blood-tinted eyes seemed to solidify into two sharp, magmatic rocks.

The Human blinked in incomprehension.

“You- You’re not tied, Lok- Loptr”, he finally managed to respond. “This is just a way for us to check if you’re alright”, he explained, pointing at the small device that linked the Jötun’s arm to the whole set of medical machinery surrounding his bed.

“I am no match for your technology, Midgardian”, the Prince sharply retorted, as he vainly tried to straighten himself.

Tony tensed, instantaneously frozen by the hateful distance in his tone.

“I did the best I could, Majesty”, he murmured with a poor smile.

Midgardian. There it was. He was nothing but a Midgardian. _I ignore why I hoped,_ had said another, a few hours earlier.

He looked away, pretending to check – again – the electrocardiogram that kept on beeping its reassuring records as loudly as possible.

“You do not fear me”, Loptr whispered, unexpectedly.

Tony arched an eyebrow. His eyes met anew with the Jötun’s ruby irises. A shiver ran down his spine.

“No, I don’t.”

“You should.”

“Why ?”

“I could kill you.”

“ _Why_ ?”

Silence. _Checkmate_ ?

“I need to kill someone”, the Giant mouthed, as _he_ looked away.

“You will”, Tony muttered back, his pupils widening and glowing with dangerous certitude. “I promise. I know who did this to you. We’ll get to him, and you’ll end him. I swear.”

Loptr tilted his head sidewards. For an endless instant, his sculptural traits remained neutral.

And then, a weak smile contorted his lips.

  
“Hate suits you well, Anthony. You could be a proud Jötun.”

_Anthony_.

The latter could have jumped in stupor, and childish joy. _Anthony_. His lids fluttered. His lips parted. A nervous laugh ascended his throat, filled the white room.

“Do Jötuns have a concept of comfort-hugs, too, or should I draw a cross on that ?” he heard himself ask, before he could properly think – it had been quite a while since he had _properly thought_ , in fact.

“I believe we do, yes”, Loptr stated, after a moment of genuine reflexion. “But you ought to be careful; my bodily temperature is-”

_To_ _H_ _ell with bodily temperatures_ , was the silent answer Tony gave him, when he climbed up the narrow bed and clumsily closed his arms around him.

“I’m very, very glad you’re alive”, he whispered against the glacial curve of his shoulder.

“I’m quite glad I did not kill you”, was all Loptr could say, as he slowly wrapped his own arms around his Human’s waist.


	20. The Kings Awaken

“Lady Virginia ?” Thor timidly inquired as he stepped a hesitant foot into the Minister’s chambers. Behind him, the two young men that had been ordered to lead the Duchess here were barely breathing, seeming somewhat overwhelmed by the suffocating atmosphere that had taken over the Tower, in the past hours. Maybe were they afraid of him, too, though it appeared quite unlikely to the Asgardian. Never had he felt less impressive. The idiot King to a cursed Kingdom, led by a sadistic maniac. What an imposing title. Even physically, with all his godly stature and improbable strength, he felt smaller and weaker than ever, while his nervous eyes sought the Duchess into her rooms.

“Milady ?” he asked again, and he anxiously twisted the thick fabric of his tunic.

“I am surprised the Prince allowed you to visit me, King Thor”, a ragged, yet peaceful voice finally answered, from behind a large, dark armchair, facing a partly obscured window.

A second later, Pepper’s frail silhouette was emerging from its hideout, so little and so breakable of appearance compared to him, yet so obviously surer of mind, clearer of thoughts.

“You are not his prisoner, Milady”, Thor protested in a whisper, as he slightly bowed in front of her, fist on his heart and heart on the edge of panic, for so many reasons he simply could not even try and eradicate at least one in particular. “Nor am I your guard. I am here to speak to you of the latest developments to the delicate situation I have brought us all into. I suppose I therefore am here to apologize to you, firstly”, he attempted to smile, nervously.

“It is not your fault, if I kept the truth from Tony, and still not your fault, if he chose to take back the trust he had put in me”, Virginia countered with a light tilt of the head. “Keep your head high, King of Asgard. You owe me nothing”, she concluded in a murmur, as she stepped to him and slid two fingers under his chin, leading him to look up to her. “Something tells me you will need it more than ever.”

“You are guessing accurately, Madam”, he heard himself whisper, as the brief touch of her cold yet assured hand left him still as a statue, confused as a tired child. “The return of Loki- Loptr’s memories led us to the most terrible discoveries. There are things I should do, things I should have done decades ago, but I-”

“One thing at a time”, she stopped him with a furtive, saddened smile. “One thing at a time, my King. Please, if you must tell me what I couldn’t learn by myself, do it. Sit ?” she offered, illustrating her ask by extending an arm towards the two sofas they had already rested upon, during a previous, similarly solemn discussion.

And sit he did, as he unwrapped his chaotic thoughts and memories, from the Vanir’s confessions to his fear of being the monarch to a condemned Realm.

She kept quiet, a long instant past the end of his erratic tale.

“Poor soul”, she ultimately mouthed, as she shook her head, slowly, and Thor looked at her with hesitation, unknowing of whose soul she was thinking of.

“Fälinn and Thjazi must be stopped, as soon as possible”, he eventually resumed. “Loki- Loptr must still heal from his wounds, but then- He needs to take his Kingdom back. Does he not ?”

“An honorable thought from you, who only just discovered he was a Prince, and not a slave”, she remarked, gently, pensively, her fingers dancing on the colorful porcelain of a finely ornamented vase.

“I do not believe ‘honorable’ is the most appropriate choice of phrasing, with all due respect, Milady”, he denied with a tired, short laugh, his eyes low.

“And yet it is. You’ve made mistakes, but you’ve been led into them. I know how it feels like”, she insisted.

“But you are so young, and I am so old. I should know better, should I not ? Worse than this, I _knew_ \- I have been aware of my own incapability for so long- I should have _acted_.”

“I ignore how age equivalences work between Asgard and Earth, King Thor, but you seem to me a lot younger than I am”, she smiled softly. “You were afraid, and you still are. Yet, you have chosen, today, to help Loptr gain his Realm back. Am I wrong ?”

“No...”

“You just expressed to me, and quite vigorously if I may say so, the wish to ‘snatch this bastard’s [Fälinn] tongue from his screaming mouth, make him swallow it while opening him from stomach to throat, before hanging his remains on the highest peak of Asgard, for all to see the punishment that awaits monsters like him, under your reign’, did you not ?”

“I did”, he blushed, “I am sorry; such language is not appropriate when-”

“Don’t you dare take it all back, Thor of Asgard”, she stopped him, and the glow in her eyes was the one of a warrior. “I wish I could do it all to him myself.”

“Milady !” he protested, as his pupils widened in astonishment, although he could not help but draw the beginning of a fascinated smile.  
“I followed an intensive combat training in my young years, my King, don’t believe I wouldn’t be capable of it”, she smirked, then sighed, the light in her irises darkening progressively, as she was brought back into her present reality. “But I suppose the Prince won’t have me doing anything anymore, will he ?”

“He said he needed to think”, Thor immediately tempered. “And _I_ believe we need you. We still ignore how to defeat the traitors, entirely. Killing them probably would not do us any good, politically speaking, would it ?”

“See who’s thinking like a King, now”, she gently teased him, as her right hand reached his to press it, briefly. “With a good consulting government, you could be better than you believe, you know ?”

“I would most certainly need a consultant like you to make up for all my past mistakes”, he tried to jest, leading to three seconds of silence that made him turn from red to violet. “I will convince Anthony”, he coughed, while standing up, “and will come back to you as soon as I will have done so. Milady”, he hastily saluted her, his gigantic paw closing under her delicate palm to bring her hand to his lips, which they winged, for a split instant.

“King Thor”, she smiled, lightly, watching him leave the room. “Thank you”, she added in a faint whisper, just before he closed the door behind him.

  
***

“It could really help if you told me your name, you know”, Tony murmured, after a few seconds of silent observation.

Loki had felt asleep in his arms, just an hour ago -because magically healing from three lethal wounds was quite tiring, he supposed. The Prince had lost himself in pensive contemplation for a while, after that, wondering, among other things, how the hell he would manage to keep his promise -how the hell he would give Loki his revenge, without starting an intergalactic war.

Then he had concluded he needed advice. Then he had thought of Pepper. Then had felt guilty, yet betrayed, sorry, yet angry.

And with anger had come the haunting image of this old Vanir magician, who had taken so much from the man he loved, and yet had lost so much in return, that he simply could not settle his feelings towards him.

So, in hope of finding at least this answer, he had left the Medical Department, and had pondered his way to the secured area into which the Man Without a Name had been confined.

“What help could it possibly bring you ?” the elder wondered, as he rose two tired eyes upon him.

“Well, first things first, I like to know how to call the people I talk to. Moreover, if your Norns wanted you completely erased from Yggdrasil, they already would’ve made it happen, right ? As you said… Your punishment came otherwise.” He pursed his lips, slightly, a bitter twinge leaving him mute for a moment. “Now you need to redeem yourself, don’t you think ? And if you’re to do so, you better remind your Gods what your name is, if you don’t want them to give forgiveness to another random bloke”, he tried to smile.

“It is an unusual perspective, to which I must grant a part of truth… My ordeal will be to live, when my Valo died. It is punishment enough, I suppose.”

The Human bit his inner lip. Well. He had not expected this conversation to be the pinnacle of fun, and had somewhat prepared himself for it, but he still could not help but feel the urge of running away, as far as possible from this impossible man and his impossible pain.

And yet…

“As much as I hate what you’ve done, I don’t believe you deserved that”, he murmured. “Nor did he.”

“It is generous of you, Prince of Midgard...”

“Would you- Would you want to say goodbye ?”

“Goodbye ?”

“He’s- He’s still in the morgue”, he clumsily confessed. “We didn’t know who he was, so… But now that we do, we can bury him. _You_ can bury him, if you-”

“Where is he ?” the old man feverishly inquired, his gnarled fingers closing instinctively onto Tony’s wrist. “Where is Valo ?”

“It’s- The morgue is not the best place to pray for lost ones, really- We can prepare him for burial, and then bring him in a room where you could- I don’t know, pray for him, or-”

“Just bring me to him. Please ? I will ask no more, not ever, I promise. I will help you in all the ways I can, I-”

“It’s all right- Hey, don’t- It’s all right, here”, the Prince attempted to comfort him, one hand slightly patting at his nervous shoulder. “I’ll bring you to him. Okay ? I’ll do it. Guards ? Open the door. See ? We’re going”, he smiled, faintly, and as gently as he could.

And they went.

The morgue was still as cold and blue as it had always been. The dead, only a name on a rectangular, metallic drawer.

Tony commanded his soldiers to stay behind, as he walked to ones of the last compartments.

“It says Vi- Victor”, the Vanir whispered, nervously, eyes filled with painful questions as he read the name on the impersonal file.

“It was the name his adoptive mother gave him”, the Prince mouthed in response. “She loved him”, he added, terrified by the tears he could already perceive at the edge of the old man’s lids. “She had many problems, but I think- I’m _sure_ she truly loved him. He certainly had a happy childhood.”

The Prince bit his inner lip, as he quickly grabbed the naming tag and wrote the four letters to the young man’s true identity.

“Are you ready to see him ?” he then murmured, one hand already closing on the aluminum handle.

“No. But I need to.”

Tony silently nodded. Heart clenching, he pulled the cold coffin away from the wall.

What he witnessed during the following minutes is to remain untold, sacred, as the mute prayers of the grieving father happened to be, in the staid, crude light that lightened the forever still features of his child.

The Vanir said nothing.

He only nodded, and turned around, ready to leave. Tony chased the salty waters that had invaded his own lashes, as he pushed the coffin back into the wall.

“Son of Heilari” was now written on the parallel lines that coldly summarized the young man’s short life.

 

“Sir ?” the disembodied voice of JARVIS suddenly whispered through the walls, leading all protagonists to startle. “I apologize, for the moment is poorly chosen, but I believe it is my duty to inform you that Prince Loptr has awaken, and is visibly attempting to reach your laboratories.”

“The lab ?” Tony frowned, nervously. “Why ?”

“I believe he wishes to leave, Sir. He used his mutant energy to teleport himself out of the infirmary. I attempted to stop him, but there is so much I can do without a body. He is weak, but stronger than us all.”

“Oh, just what I needed, now”, the Prince mouthed through his teeth. “Lieutenant Rogers ? Please lead Sir Heilari to his apartment, and watch over him. Sergeant Wilson, with me. No gun.”

***

The Jötun was cursing his own body to Helheim when they managed to reach him.

“Loptr”, the Prince called, cautiously, both hands in the air. “Whatever you want to do, I can help. I promised, remember ?” he smiled, prudently.

“I have no time to lose”, the Giant growled, his palms firmly pressed onto his shaking abdomen. “My people needs me, and the traitors must- be- Agh!”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop, no, Lok- Loptr, just, relax, for a second, just a second, okay ? Please, your wounds are not fully healed yet, all right ? You won’t make it alive to Jötunheim this way. Besides- You can’t take back your Realm on your own. Thjazi and Fälinn are clever. They’ll make you pass for an impostor, and you’ll get killed, maybe by your own people. I’m not letting that happen.”

The Jötun Prince furiously shook his head, both palms rising against his own ears, so he would not hear the intolerable truth his stupid Midgardian was speaking.

“I cannot stay”, he groaned, “and wait, when- when-”

“I know”, the Prince whispered, hands resting on his shoulders, leading him, slowly, to level down, and, finally, sit on the ground.

“My magic- It’s awakening”, Loptr insisted, his hands sliding from his head to his thighs, beaming with a faint, greenish glow. “Is it not proof enough of who I am ? I could- Before, when I was younger, I could- I had the power to travel the Branches- Just like that. No Bifrost. No complicated machine. Just me- It will come back to me. And this day...”

“This day, we’ll be ready to back you up”, Tony asserted, his voice gentle and firm. “But right now, you need to rest, and we need to think. Okay ?” he whispered, as he hastily lifted his lover’s jacket up, nervously checking on his wounds. At least, they had no reopened.

“We ?” the Jötun repeated, and his confused features stiffened in suspicion. “Who is we ?”

“Well”, Tony winced, ever so slightly -yeah, not his best move yet. “You, me...”

“Your Duchess ?” Loptr draw a light smirk.

“I don’t know”, the Midgardian admitted in a sigh, as he rested his back against the wall.

“I was angry, when I said all those things about her”, the Giant mouthed, after a moment of uneasy silence. “I said the truth, but I tinted it with my rage. I do not believe she wished to betray you. She cherished her sister, and her sister’s memory. I can understand that.”

“She still didn’t trust me enough to tell me _her_ truth”, Tony murmured, jaws clenching.

“Trust had nothing to do with her decision, stupid little Human”, Loptr laughed softly, his cold hand landing a light slap at the back of Tony’s head.

“Hey !” the Prince protested with an indignant pout.

“Precisely.”

“She treated me like a child because I’m a child”, he deduced, past a moment of irritated incomprehension. “That’s what you’re saying ?”

“At least you were a child at the time she believed she needed to protect you from the terrible world of reality.”

“Yeah, well that was just a few days ago, so technically, I’m still a kid”, Tony grunted, legs folding up against his chest.

“In the mean time, you witnessed the resurrection of a buried man, my apparent death and my own so-called return to life. You may have changed, Anthony of the State of York.”

“Which would mean that I really don’t know who I am anymore. Yay !”

“I know the feeling”, the Jötun remarked with a bitter wince.

Tony closed his eyes in abashment. He faintly knocked the back of his head against the wall, then turned an apologetic gaze to his partner.

“Sorry.”

“No harm done”, Loptr whispered. “Not by you.”

The Midgardian nodded, silently. Eyes lost in the distance for a few seconds, he ultimately drew a fine smile.

“If I’ve changed… If I’m, like, New Tony- What do you think this New Tony would do?”

Loki rounded one eyebrow, taking a quick sideways glance at his tiny, weird Human.

“Well… I think he would go to his loyal friend, apologize on behalf of Old Tony, hear her apologies for her own mistakes, and start anew. Also, he would do all of this as swiftly as possible, so New Loptr could take back his Kingdom before the snakes and spiders achieved to contaminate it with their repugnant venom”, he concluded with a wry smile.

“It is a plan with which I could not agree more”, a deep, hoarse voice intervened, from the end of the corridor.

Loki tensed. A split second later, he was on his feet, knees bent, arms apart, ready to fight.

“Why is he still here ?” he hissed, as Thor’s wide silhouette appeared next to a hesitant Sergeant Wilson. “I thought he was gone- How could you allow him to-”

“Loptr, please”, Tony mouthed, hurriedly standing up, his small, insignificant body forming a pitiful shield between the two men.

“ _He should be the first to die_ !” the Jötun spat out, and dangerous swirls of emerald energy began to radiate through his hands, his arms, his chest.

“He wants to help !” Tony protested anew. “Lok- Loptr, please. I’m not asking you to forgive him, but he only wants to help!”

“Help ? _Help_ ?! Ha ! What good could he do ? What could he _ever_ do apart from eating, drinking and fucking the life out of his slaves to forget how much of a _failure_ he is ?! Hm ?! What could you ever do, Thor, Son of Odin ? Even your father knew you would never be a proper King ! Everyone talked about it, everywhere ! They all laughed at you ! When I fought you in the Battle of Utgard, I only let you live so I could laugh at the face of your failure, your worthlessness ! You and your ridiculous Mjolnir, only given to you to make you believe you had some legitimacy over the Throne, you and-”

“Loptr, enough !” Tony screamed. “ _Enough_ ! Just- The both of you !” he warned Thor, pointing one nervous finger at him. “Loptr, he’s not worth your hate. Hear yourself. He’s so unimportant to you. He’s worthless. Right ? Don’t lose your energy spitting on him. You’re better than that. And- I don’t know if _he’s_ better than what he seems, but he’s not your enemy. Not today. He stands on our side. And we _need_ to stand by his. Because that’s what Fälinn and Thjazi won’t expect. They won’t expect me to stand with him, because I’m pretty sure they knew all along that I disapproved of his ways, and they won’t expect you to know who you are, for a start, and to fight alongside him. The element of surprise is all we got for the moment. I don’t care if you keep on hating him forever after this- Just- Trust me on this one. Please.”

“You have no right to ask this from me”, the Jötun Prince hissed, escaping his companion’s desperate embrace with furious hastiness. “No right. No-”

“Loptr, Son of Laufey”, Thor suddenly called out, leading both the Human and the Giant to straighten, their whole body a world of tension. The Asgardian stepped to them, slowly, meter by meter. His face showed nor fear nor pain. Only… Certitude. “You speak the truth. No one holds the right to make you stand with me, even for the greater cause. And I, Thor, Son of Odin, do not hold the right to live in your presence, for I have dishonored you, and my own lineage, in my acts of cowardice and debauchery. For this, Son of Laufey, Heir to the Throne of Jötunheim, Child of the Everlasting Snows, I give you my life, this moment.”

With these words, the King silently retrieved his helmet, and knelt to the ground. Mjolnir felt heavily on the marble ground. Defenseless, Thor of Asgard awaited his fate.

And with all their cleverness, with all their genius, nor Loptr of Jötunheim, nor Anthony of Midgard had ever seen this coming.

“You’re completely mad”, Tony eventually achieved to say. “What’s with you people and death ?! Just when you could do something good with your fucking _eternal_ life, you- Loptr, don’t- Loptr !” he yelled, his voice breaking as the Jötun pushed him aside with one thought, the jade mist of his awakening magic pressing him, helpless, against the wall. “You can’t, Loptr, _Loptr_ !”

But the Giant was already facing the kneeling Asgardian, his bloody eyes seeking deep into the storm-tinted irises of his tormentor the promise that he would not run away, that he would, finally, allow him the sweet, sweet revenge he had dreamed of for so, so long.

Thor nodded, slowly, then lowered his gaze, and his head. The mighty King of Asgard, offered like a lamb on the sacrificial alter.

Loki should have smiled. And Loptr should have struck.

But none of them could let Thor become a victim.

“Fight”, he hissed, abruptly, and his feet kicked the staid metal of Mjolnir. “ _Fight_ !” he yelped, as the Asgardian remained motionless. “ _FIGHT_ !”

“Loptr”, Tony pleaded, as he struggled against his invisible restraints, that grew stronger and stronger, without their master ever seeming to notice.

“Why will you not fight ? _Why are you doing this_?” the Ice Prince screamed, his hands, set to tear apart every piece of flesh they could find, clawing, hitting into the walls until his knuckles were red with his own blood.

“Loptr”, the Human begged, when his lover’s rage made his bonds compress his whole body, slowly pulling all oxygen from his lungs.

“ _WHY WILL HE NOT FIGHT ?!_ … Anthony ?”

“God, I- never thought you- could be so- slow”, the Midgardian attempted to joke, in, quite possibly, his last breath.

“Anthony !” the Giant shouted in horror, as Thor raised a confused gaze upon them, most certainly wondering why on Earth he was still alive. “Anthony, _Anthony_ ?” Loptr called out, making his magic soothing and tender as it brought the Human between his anxious arms, his glacial, bleeding hand covering the faltering light of the Arc Reactor.

“I’m fine, you dumb immortal”, the Human groaned, after ten seconds of heavy breathing and slow eyesight recovery – from black to shadows, from flashing dots to defined shapes.

“I am sorry”, the Jötun whispered, his eyes filled with remorseful tears. “I am so sorry- I-”

“I know”, the Human smiled, softly, before pretending to a resigned, deep sigh. “Let’s just forget about it, okay ? Although… Wait a second. Does it give me a special wish ?”

“W- What ?”

“Well, you almost throttled me to death; does it mean you owe me a favor ?”

“I- I know nothing of this law”, the Giant nervously replied.

“Quite right, too, I just invented it. With immediate effect”, he specified with a light smirk, followed by a demanding pout. “Please, don’t kill Thor ? Today’s definitely not a good day to die, I swear, I checked.”

“… Not today”, Loptr confirmed, after a moment of tense muteness and a nervous, angry glance to the silent Asgardian.

“Good. Thanks. I might need some help to get up, too. Yup, good, thanks again”, he smiled when his lover prudently got him back on his legs. “Come on, on your feet, dumb immortal number two !” he commanded Thor, the latter drawing a faint smile in return. “Wilson ? Take the Prince of Jötunheim to the infirmary. I want these wounds checked and properly healed by tonight. Please, my fierce snowball”, he cut Loptr off before he could protest, laying a kiss on his cold cheek, “trust me, everything, especially revenge, is better when you’re alive and well. Basic physics. Thor, you’re coming with me, we have a lady to ask advice to. And, probably, a speech to write.”

“A… Speech ?” the Asgardian inquired, raising a surprised eyebrow.

“Apparently, I’m not a child anymore. I’m a Prince, and soon a King. Princes and Kings write speeches, don’t they ?”

“I never did.”

“Well, you better prepare yourself, cause I’m not letting you die like a moron until you become the King your people needs, and I know a Prime Minister who’s about to beat the hell out of your halfhass royal education. My condolences in advance; I know the feeling. Beside the point : winging death really does suit me, don’t you think ? I feel more alive than ever !” he smiled widely at the confused Asgardian. “Now. Let’s go find the words to tell my people why the hell their Prince has been running around like a whirligig in the past weeks, shall we ?”


	21. From Dusk to Dawn

“I’ve been an utter, childish, capricious jerk, Pepper”, were the first words that broke their uneasy muteness, when Tony finally dared to plant his gaze into hers.

Standing silently, a few steps behind the Midgardian, Thor smirked, ever so slightly.

“You have indeed”, Virginia agreed, after a second of pensive observation. “Are we talking lately, or in general?” she then smiled, her tone suddenly as light and soft as a nestling’s down.

The Prince lifted a surprised, yet relieved, eyebrow.

“Mostly lately”, he tentatively jested. “But it’d be astonishingly generous of you to accept my excuses for the whole decade of infuriating behavior that I’ve put you through.”

“I will consider the option, Anthony”, the Duchess promised in a secretive whisper, as she laid a hand upon his shoulder.

“So… Are we good? At least for now? Cause we have some serious business to attend to, and-”

“Our relationship is not the one we should be worried about, Tony”, she gently reminded him, with a concerned nod, as her eyes flew to the Asgardian’s suddenly solemn expression.

“Loptr will not forgive me”, Thor stated, calmly. “I do accept it.”

“But his hate and your remorse could get in the way of a necessary partnership”, Pepper countered, patiently, as she invited them both to sit, for the following conversation promised to be long, and filled with delicate matters.

“Loptr accepted to avoid killing him for now, that’s something”, Tony winced.

“But does it mean he will accept to work with him? It could prove quite a hardship, even if it meant giving him what he desires the most.”

“I believe he knows not himself what he desires the most, among his revenge on me and his rights on his crown”, the Asgardian King intervened.

“He knows he needs your help if he wants to save his people from his crazed uncle’s reign, that’s for sure”, Tony argued, gloomily. “By the way, what’s, _actually_ , the situation on Jötunheim? I know it can’t be good, but how bad is it?”

“I wish I could tell you, but all the reports I have read on the matter in the past decades were written by Fälinn. Now that I know for certain that I cannot trust a word he emits, I know that I know nothing”, Thor bitterly answered.

“Couldn’t you ask your super-guardian, who supposedly sees everything? Heimdall, right?”

“I could, but not from here. On Midgard, I can only ask him to bring me back to Asgard.”

“Then we need to go to Asgard, Tony deduced, pragmatically. “One thing, though: if he sees everything, does it mean Fälinn could ask him what we are doing right now? That’d kind of ruin the element of surprise for us.”

“Heimdall takes his order from me and from no one else, worry not on the matter”, the King assured with a faint smile. “He is the only man I fully trust in the Nine Realms.”

“Oh, yay. So we’ve got that for us. Now. How should we use it?”

“At one point or another, we will have no choice but travel to Asgard to confront Fälinn”, the Duchess recapitulated. “Loptr and the apothecary-”

“Heilari. His name is Heilari.”

“Loptr and Heilari”, she pursued with a soft nod, “are our key witnesses. We need them both, and, most importantly, we need them to be _ready_ for such a battle. Are they, Tony?”

“Heilari will help us, no doubt about it”, said Tony confirmed. “Loptr”, he cringed. “Loptr has had a hard day, to say the least. He’d deserve at least a night of rest, before we ask him to take a decision.”

“Quite right”, Pepper agreed with a commiserative pout. “Will you take upon you the task of convincing him? You know him better than I do, and he won’t listen to Thor – with all due respect, my King.”

“I’ll take care of him”, the Prince whispered, after a few seconds. “From there, we’ll see.”

“Thank you”, the Prime Minister approved with a formal movement of the hand. “Now. We need a plan. Stop me if I’m wrong, but I believe none of you wishes to start a war?”

“No”, Tony immediately stated, jaw clenching at the sole idea of such an extreme solution.

“No more”, Thor confirmed in a vehement shake of the head. “Innocent blood shall not be spilled. We will address this issue as civilized beings. My ancestors made rules and laws. It is about time I put them to good use. We should take the traitors Fälinn and Thjazi to court, and have them pay, alone, for their crimes.”

“Now that’s talking! You’re getting better at this, big guy”, Tony smiled lightly, landing a tap on Thor’s shoulder. “I can see your influence here, Pep’- Sorry, _Duchess_.”

“I’ll accept your metaphorical flowers later, Anthony. Now we need to know how to brings Thor’s idea to reality.”

“The laws on treason are complex and tricky, in my Realm, but there is only so far a man can go without falling into the net of Justice”, the Asgardian pensively asserted. “With Loptr and Heilari alive, the Althing will have no doubt upon Fälinn’s guilt. As for Thjazi… I am not fully aware of Jötunheim’s laws against such crimes, but it is a certitude that they do not go unpunished. Besides, since the Peace Treaty of Utgard, major felonies like the one they have made themselves guilty of are all reffered to the Thing, whether the criminal is Jötun or Aesir. From there… Well, we could trick Fälinn into inviting the foul Thjazi to Asgard, without having them know that their repulsive plans have been discovered. This way, none of them would have time to prepare their defense, which could well consist in using my and Loptr’s people as hostages. I trust their felony to reach such disgusting extents. For our people, we ought to be careful, and clever. For once, in my very personal case”, he concluded in a whisper, eyes low and cheeks blushing, as Tony and Pepper looked at him with utter shock.

“What on Earth have you done to him ?” the Prince eventually smiled, widely, leading the Duchess to roll her eyes.

“Don’t be insulting, now, Tony. Only he holds merit for his ideas. It’s a perfectly good plan, King Thor. With appropriate preparation and sharpening, this could well lead us to a clean, victimless victory. A diplomatic visit to Asgard could be a fair excuse for Tony and I’s presence on Asgard. Nevertheless, Loptr and Heilari should remain hidden until the right moment comes.”

“Loptr’s magic is awakening, and Heilari’s has never left him, I believe”, Tony commented, still smiling like the fool he still was, a tiny bit. “Invisibility shouldn’t be a problem.”

“So, we would lead Fälinn to invite Thjazi to Asgard, for plenipotentiary reasons, I presume? A council, between the King of Asgard, the Regent of Jötunheim and the Heir Prince of York? What pertinent reason could we give to this request?”

“An alliance”, Thor immediately answered. “Fälinn wished for Anthony and I to be allies, and friends, so he could manipulate him through me. He would only be too happy to have the Prince of Midgard willingly come into his and Thjazi’s web.”

“Right”, the Midgardian Prince winced in disgust. “So we pretext that I want our three Kingdoms to be united, strong together, blah blah blah?”

“Asgard and Jötunheim are already allies, at least in theory. It is logical, and maybe even already in Fälinn’s plans, that my new associate would wish to meet with my other principal _friend_ ”, Thor remarked with a dark smile. “By seemingly playing his game, we will give ourselves the means to hit him with one, perfect strike, when the time comes.”

“Sounds like music to my ears, Thor”, Tony had to recognize, an impressed pout bringing his lips upwards -again.

“It is indeed a very good start”, Virginia confirmed with a gentle smile, as the tip of her fingers gave the King’s wrist an encouraging touch. “We will discuss this idea further, as soon as we’ll have Loptr’s answer. Until then, Tony, I believe you would like to have some time with your companion?”

“I would. But, before that, and because I’ve made some progress too, you see, I’d like to prepare a speech for my people”, he smirked, a hint of puerile jubilation glowing in his eye as he witnessed the Duchess’ astonished expression. He let out a light laugh. Then, because he had indeed changed, hopefully for the better, he gave himself the most serious look he could, and pursued, calmly, firmly: “Too long have I kept them away from what I was doing. They deserve a bit more transparency. And I want to let them know that I wish to be a better King than I was a Prince.”

***

A speech he had wished to write, and a speech they had written. Although he knew he would most certainly start improvising -to Pepper’s utter despair- half-way through this solemn occasion, the little piece of paper onto which they had laid their ideas made him feel like more of a man. A man in a different kind of armor. A man who no longer felt the need to hide.

It was good.

His address to his people had been set for the following day, in the morning. He had a whole evening, and a whole night, to spend with his- companion (?).

Now more than ever, he doubted of this use of words.

And even though it clearly was not the time for such interrogations, he could not help but wonder, as he reached the infirmary, if Loptr, as much as Loki, had ever considered the option of- staying with him.

He knew he would have liked it.

But it was not his choice to make, was it?

He let out a light sigh, as he halted on the aseptic threshold. Eyes closed, ams resting along his chest, Loptr seemed somewhat peaceful, at last. As the Prince was about to leave, in hope of allowing his partner a few hours of restorative sleep, the Giant’s lids fluttered lightly, and his hoarse voice emerged in the silent room.

“You may stay”, he smiled, as he turned his head towards the Midgardian.

Tony raised an uncertain eyebrow. His hands, twisted into a nervous knot behind his back, clenched anew. He was not quite sure why he suddenly felt so nervous, really. Tiredness, probably.

“You sure? You sill sort of look like a walking corpse”, he tried to joke.

“You should see yourself”, Loptr retorted, rolling his eyes. “I nearly killed you, just a few hours ago.”

“Pfah, already over it, darling. I’m stronger than I look. No, my poor appearance is probably due to the fact that I just started acting like an adult. Terrifying”, he winced as he stepped forward, leaving the door to close automatically behind him.

“My, my, it _is_ a drastic change”, the Jötun Prince chuckled. “You should be the one to rest on this bed.”

“Well, there is plenty of room, I might give in to temptation, sooner or later”, the Human replied in a smirk. “If it’s alright with you, of course”, he quickly specified, the caramelized tint of his cheeks blooming in a reddish glow.

“At your own risk, my Prince. My-”

“Yeah, yeah, your bodily temperature, I know. And I still don’t care, sweetheart.”

“You are a braver man than I ever thought, Anthony”, Loptr teased, softly.

“Am I supposed to feel flattered or insulted?”

“I am gathering both. But, all humor left aside, I did mean it as a compliment. A sincere one, moreover”, he insisted, almost timidly, leading Tony to tilt his head sideways, a perplex pout replacing his smile on his lips.

“Thank you”, he ultimately whispered, gently. “Doing my best. We have a lot to do, to get you back on your throne. But- In your own time”, he hurriedly added, instinctively bringing his hand onto the Giant’s shoulder. “You need to fully recover first. Then, we’ll see.”

“You already have planned it all out, have you not?” Loptr smiled weakly, as the Midgardian kept on blushing.

“Sort of. Not really. We won’t do anything without your agreement. But, again, you need to rest first. Let’s not talk about it, shall we? How are you feeling? Did they take care of you properly?”

“Your healers were very kind and attentive, yes”, the Jötun confirmed in a smile, his right hand leaving the comfortable support of the mattress to meet with Tony’s wrist, pressing it smoothly. “I believe they do like me very much, for my magic is doing most of the work”, he jested, his free fingers running mindlessly upon the immaculate fabric of his bandages.

“Ah, we’re all a bit lazy, in the end...”

“ _You_ are not. For all your flaws, I have never seen you _stop_. Always thinking, always keeping yourself active.”

“My flaws are thanking you very much, love”, the Prince giggled, a tad nervously. “It’s because of them that I never stopped, you know? I always kept my mind and body busy, so I could, maybe, forget them. So I could avoid having to address them, specifically. A coward’s method, if you’ll ask me. I’m not that brave, you know.”

“The Old You was not, indeed. But look at you now, ready to fight an almost unbeatable enemy, to win back a crown for a man you barely know.”

“Sounds more like blind stupidity than courage, to be quite honest”, he guffawed. “And- I don’t know. Do you feel like you barely know me?” he hesitantly wondered, eyes fixed on the strange, yet comfortable contrast of his abraded, warm hand, lost in the cold immensity of Loptr’s delicate, long fingers.

“It is a fact that we barely know each other, Anthony”, the Giant murmured. “Just one day ago, I ignored who I was myself.”

“But we’ve had some good moments… Haven’t we? We could say we’re… I don’t know, like, good friends. Yes?”

“I have difficulties remembering what it felt like to have friends, I must say. But… Yes, I suppose. You cared for me, and I felt awfully wrong when I nearly killed you, so...”

They exchanged a shy glance, before letting out a synchronized, loud laughter.

“That’s friendship for you, folks”, Tony chortled, tears of tired hilarity filling his eyes.

“Can we even call it that way?” Loptr chuckled, shaking his head. “After all, we did spend a night together. Do friends do such things?”

The Human’s laugh expired as suddenly as it had burst. The corners of his lips slowly returned to their neutral position, as the watery glow in his irises grew sadder.

“Generally, they don’t”, he murmured in a minuscule smile. “Besides… It wasn’t really… I mean, you felt like you _had_ to, at the time. And I shouldn’t have… It wasn’t right”, he hastily concluded, a thorn of remorse making his voice more and more ragged, as he withdrew his hand, nervously.

“Anthony”, Loptr protested, eyes wide open in incomprehension. “It was… You never forced me into it. _I forced myself_ , it is true, and I did believe, at first, it would be as painful and- and shameful as always, but you were so- No one had ever been this gentle with me before. No one had ever cared for my pleasure. I regret nothing of this night. It was- It felt really good, being your lover”, he whispered, the tender blue of his cheekbones growing into a sweet tint of purple. “Do not make this known to anyone, or I _will_ kill you”, he quickly added in an embarrassed grunt, folding his legs against his chest, as Tony looked at him in utter shock -and incredulous happiness.

“You really think so?” he murmured, his voice scarcely a breath.

“Do not make me say it again!” the Jötun growled, his whole face now a field of self-conscious violets.

Tony giggled like the most primary of amorous schoolboys, and dived forward, laying a loud kiss onto Loptr’s blushing forehead.

“Away with you, someone will come!” the Giant immediately repelled him, despite a content smile painting itself upon his lips.

“The door is closed”, the Prince smirked.

“I see a hidden meaning in this assertion.”

“Who do you take me for, Prince Loptr of Jötunheim? You’re still wounded, and we have more urgent matters to worry about.”

“Hm. Yes, we do”, said Prince Loptr winced slightly, so very obviously disappointed, and so very eager to hide it.

“But when all this will be done...”

“I will have a Kingdom to take care of.”

“True. So will I”, the Human sighed, deeply.

“But we are good travelers, are we not?”

“The best there is”, Tony smiled, largely, as he leaned forward for his lips to meet his.


	22. The Power of Words

 

With an unimpressed grunt, Tony settled his tie -again. _Nervous_ was probably the most accurate term to describe his present state of mind, and yet, it still seemed an outrageous euphemism. The more he observed his reflection in the mirror, the less confident he felt. A child in a expensive, perfectly tailored suit was still a child, in the end. A child holding the precise instructions to an impeccable oral presentation was, evidently, a child. A man who permanently needed a soft voice to cradle his fears into oblivion, and a soft hand to chase away the tensions that made his shoulders feel like solid rock… This man was, more than any other, a child.

A child could not rule a state, could he? He should not even be authorized to rule his own body.

“You will do just fine, my dear Anthony”, Loptr attempted to reassure him -again.

“You’re ready for this, Tony. I wouldn’t let you do it if I didn’t truly believe it”, Pepper added, gently.

Both of them kept on grooming him, obviously trying to make him look like more of a Prince -of a King- to himself, as much as to his people.

“Just remember”, the Duchess added, cautiously. “Avoid saying exactly what we will be doing in Asgard. Most of them won’t care, anyway. Us, Earthlings, need to be comforted on the little things, that touch our everyday life, or at the very least, our country, our land, our families. Tell them about the prisoners. Tell them about the mines. Tell them about the lower taxes and the better health insurances. Tell them you’ve been traveling, so they know you hide nothing from them, but don’t get too personal. Everything you do is expected to be for the greater good of your state. Acknowledge your past mistakes, but put emphasis only on the ways you wish to redeem yourself. And-”

“I get it”, the Prince nervously interrupted. “Political cant”, he summarized, wincing at the idea that he would soon step into this dreadful world -the world of his father, the world of the Duchess, the world of a cruel spider, up there, in the stars. A world he had avoided for so long, and still hated with terrified passion.

“We are not asking you to lie, Anthony”, Loptr softly whispered, as he warmed up his hands to press them on his companion’s tense muscles. “Only to say what matters to your people. There will come a time when it will be appropriate to relate our adventures. But now, all that matters is their trust in you, and your openness to them. Was it not what that speech was all about?”

“It was”, he sighed, tiredly, as his shoulders slowly relaxed under his lover’s care. “It _is_. Which is why I wish I could tell everything.”

“Transparency is not about keeping your people posted on your activities like you would do with a group of friends on a social network, Tony”, Pepper intervened, a sweet smile rising the corners of her mouth as she took his hands into hers. “For all the efforts you could make, they would never be your confidants. They are relying on you, they are basically leaving their lives into your hands, Tony. And this dynamic isn’t reciprocal. Which is why you and them are not friends. You are their future King, and they are your people. You owe them the truth, yes. But not all truths are good to tell, at any moment, in any circumstances. I agree with Loptr. Once he and Thor are back at their rightful place in their respective kingdoms, it will be good to divulge your implication in the fall of Fälinn and Thjazi. Telling them now that you are leaving your terrestrial duties to attempt a glorious and dangerous coup in two foreign realms, on the other hand...”

“… Would be like ringing a particularly staggering alarm”, Tony completed in a resigned nod.

“Precisely. Even though our chances of success are quite high, there are even higher chances that the population will automatically imagine the worst case scenario, no matter how reassuring you attempt to sound. And you simply can’t control an idea once it’s planted in one’s brain, even less if this idea ends up becoming a rumor, or a collective belief. If your people fears for your life, or has the slightest reason to believe that you won’t come back to take care of them … All we will find at our return will be anarchy.”

“And it would be sadly ironic to heal Asgard and Jötunheim from their corrupted governments only to create chaos in your own realm”, Loptr concluded in a concerned grimace.

Tony bit his inner lip, furtively glancing at his companion. He had carefully explained Thor’s plan to him, earlier on, after an ultimate visit from Loptr’s attending doctor -whose utility had been reduced to the plain observation of the Giant’s full recovery.

The Jötun Prince had not given any defined answer yet, as to whether or not he felt prepared for this demanding expedition to Asgard. Though he had admitted it was the only viable strategy, given the circumstances, he had seemed quite sickened at the idea of diving right back into the world he hated and dreaded so much. A feeling Tony could only understand.

And yet, while still waiting for his partner’s decision, he had no choice but announce his departure for Asgard to his people -because he was bound to make no secrets of his important displacements, and because, even if Loptr were to determine he was not ready for such a battle, Thor and Tony were still morally obliged to do everything in their power to bring Fälinn and Thjazi down, for they simply _could not_ allow two traitors, two murderers, two _monsters_ to rule both Asgard and Jötunheim.

“Ironic indeed”, he whispered, before sighing anew and straightening his spine as much as possible. “Well then”, he inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. “Thank you both for this efficient political course. I guess there’s only left for me to- go for it. Wish me luck. Loptr, how are you feeling?”

“Anthony Stark”, the young Jötun reproached, leaving his own dark thoughts for the time being, as his hands turned cold again and closed around the Human’s cheeks, giving him, hopefully, the adrenaline boost he so obviously needed. “My wounds are healed, my magic is almost restored to its optimal capacity. I feel better than I have for centuries, and will only be healthier once you come back from this discourse, crowned with an aureole of glory and popular love”, he completed with a smile and a kiss, before firmly pressing his palms against his shoulders, making him turn around to face the draped screen that would eventually open on the gallery from which he would address his people.

Outside, the humming of the crowd suddenly seemed louder. Tony froze, for a split second. In a perfectly synchronized gesture, Pepper and Loptr pushed him forward.

Hidden in the faint opening of the inner door, Thor, who had willingly withdrawn from the conversation as soon as Loptr had joined them, raised a friendly hand and an encouraging smile, before disappearing again, waiting for his time to come.

Tony’s attempt to smile back ended up quite pitiful.

He took five more seconds to bring his thoughts -and overall being- together.

A simple speech. An oral presentation, at worst. Oh, better. A comedy act. Yes. Perfect. Childish dreams and grown responsibilities, merged in the performance of a lifetime.

Yes.

He passed a febrile hand into his hair, bringing it back to its natural, messy state.

Then, in a finger snap, the curtain was up, and the King was in.

***

  
He was smiling, in a way even he could never have imagined before. He had been talking for fifteen solid minutes, now, brushing the honest and colorful portrait of his life as a quite unworthy Prince.

“But I think you already know all that, don’t you?” he smirked as he looked down to his mostly amused, but certainly perplex, public. “And you’ve not come here today to hear me say out loud what you’ve probably been thinking for a decade. Yeah, definitely not, I can see it in your face, my good sir”, he implicitly apologized, his eyes meeting those of an old, tired man, who was so obviously waiting for his erratic future King to finally tackle actually significant matters. “I simply felt it was important for you to know that I was now fully aware of my previous mistakes. I think I made it clear enough, so I believe it’s time for me to move on to the fundamental stuff, aka: ‘How will I make up for my errors, and even some of my father’s?’ Yeah, I know. Quite the ambitious program, isn’t it? Well, I’m glad to let you know that I do feel ready to take on this monumental, multi-faceted task. _Finally_ , I can hear you say. And I really can’t blame you”, he winced and sighed, before taking a quick glance to Pepper’s -bless her- little memo. “Among other things, I will reinstall the voting system in the four quadrants of the state, for you, and only you, to elect the deputies you believe would represent best you interests in my government. I will also rebalance the deciding _and_ executive power of my ministers and myself. I intend to be a King, not a dictator. Speaking of which...” He marked a pause, took a deep breath, his gaze scanning the crowd in a fast sweep. “I know my father, also my predecessor, as it occurs, took decisions you could all perceive as extreme, selfish, authoritarian, or plain and simple _wrong_. I can only agree with you on numerous aspects. Nevertheless, and because I am about to drastically eradicate some of the rules he put in place, it is my duty, as a heir and a son, to remind you all that he, despite his obvious mistakes, gave you free health care, free education, and the safest living area in the western world. But for this, he did sacrifice a lot. My role will consist in making up for what has been lost, without altering what has been gained and maintained through the years. I promise you, today, and will promise you again on the day of my coronation, that I will, for a start, reduce the inhumane pace of production that my predecessor and I set in our Vibranium mines. Now, I acknowledge that these mines are, for 60% of you, a major income source. Don’t worry. I will _not_ close them, nor diminish anyone’s salary. I will only recalibrate the inner logistics of the mines, so, one, you hard-working people find some more time for your families and hobbies; two, our pollution emission decreases by at least 40% in the following year; and, three… The convicts who have been sentenced to penal servitude can find some peace of body and spirit, in a new, adapted penitentiary, the construction of which will begin not later than tomorrow. Now, rest assured that I’ve thought this through”, he quickly added as a whisper of both relief and doubt ran through the crowd. “I _know_ the working conditions of those men and women are unacceptable. Too long have I hidden behind the certitude that they had deserved their fate. I know their crimes, and I know some of them to be true monsters, I do. But I also know that they are your friends, your brothers, your daughters. I know too that Howard Stark imprisoned too many of them because he was afraid of their rightful critiques against his government -treason, he called it. And I know for a fact that, no matter how we look at this problem, we cannot deduce that Justice has been served rightfully. Even those we call monsters remain human, and deserve human treatment. I don’t want to be the King who stoops as low as a murderer, by sentencing someone, _anyone_ , guilty or innocent, to years of camouflaged torture and, ultimately, undignified death. I don’t want to be that _man_. This is why all trials will be reopened; this is why innocents will be released, taken care of, and given all necessary compensations; this is why the criminals you are entitled to be afraid of will remain imprisoned, in the safest of penitentiaries. I promise you safe and healthy lives, under my reign.”

He underlined his words with a solemn nod, the only grave gesture he had indulged in since the beginning of his speech, really -because his people needed to know he had the ability to be serious, sometimes, despite his disheveled little body and hopeless tendency to crack somewhat unfunny jokes.

Apparently, this catastrophic combination was not entirely inefficient.

After two seconds of uncertain silence, a few shouts of approval emerged from the multitude, quickly followed by a round of enthusiastic applause.

He smiled, widely. Oh, he was good.

Maybe was he really born for this, after all.

Raising both hands and lowering them in a peaceful, fluid movement, he brought the cheers to a murmur, the claps to an attentive listening.

“Moving on, you all know now that I’ve been traveling quite a lot, in the past weeks. You also know that I’ve been approached by the King of Asgard”, he slightly turned, one hand pointing at the curtain in front of which Thor soon appeared, walking to the railing with an assurance he maybe only pretended to feel, “who expressed his wish to forge an alliance between his government and mine”, Tony specified, his palm resting on the Asgardian’s shoulder, as the blond giant waved politely at the whispering crowd, his warm smile and statuesque allure leaving an expected, seduced impression on them. “To increase the political and cultural strength of our beautiful country, I will soon make a diplomatic jump through the stars to meet with Thor Odinson’s ministers, and ratify with them the very first interstellar treaty of our era”, he explained with an utterly inappropriate lightness, that yet seemed to please his alert population. “Don’t worry, though”, he rapidly added. “I won’t be gone for long, and this little trip won’t postpone the engagements I just took. Our beloved Prime Minister, Duchess Virginia”, he turned anew, waiting for her to appear behind him, “will stay with you, and will conduct the very first transitions, with all the care and meticulousness that we know and love”, he concluded in yet a new smile, pretending to ignore the confused glance that she discreetly threw at him -yeah, he might have just improvised this last part.

After all, he was about to risk his life up there. He could not bare risking hers too.

“With that said, all is left for me to do is to wish you a very good afternoon, and express the strong desire that, when the day of my coronation is finally set, and, mostly, when it comes, you will be as glad to call me your King that I will be to, finally, truly, put myself at your service.”

With a wink, Tony Stark bowed to his people. Soon, the curtain was down, and the King was out.

***

Surprisingly, she did not even bother to be angry with him. Probably because, for the first time in their life, she knew he was right. Any other day, with any other crowd, he maybe could have gotten away with announcing that the two most important rulers of the state were leaving for a quick intergalactic excursion. But today, with those eyes fixed on him, and that particular energy emerging from febrile minds and bodies, it would have been plain social suicide.

That was the official reason, at least. Their intricate friendship was still enveloped in too much prudery for him to admit he cared for her enough to put her aside, when danger arose in the distance.

But she probably knew. There was a different glow in her eye, when she assured him that he had done well.

“I think I did too”, he smiled lightly, as he laid a gentle tap on Thor’s shoulder. “Same to you, Colgate.”

“Colgate?” the Asgardian echoed in a frown, leading the two Humans to chuckle slightly, and a distant Loptr to wince in the shadows.

The foreign King was not fooled by this discreet reaction.

“I will be in the dining room, waiting for the final decision”, he eluded, his face imprinted with neutral resignation. “Take all the time you need”, he added, his eyes on Tony, despite his words not being meant for him.

The two Princes nodded lightly, the Midgardian with a desolate smile, the Giant with an irritated roll of the eyes.

“I’ll be initiating the construction project with the Minister of Housing”, Virginia announced, softly. “See you later. Tony, Loptr.”

She saluted them both with a gracious bow, before leaving in a furtive swish of silk. Silence fell, for a split instant.

“It is quite amusing, the way you all seem to be waiting for my decision, when your journey has already been scheduled and publicly announced”, the Jötun eventually commented with a grin, as Tony stepped towards him.

“Thor and I are leaving for Asgard, it’s a fact we have already established”, the Human prudently replied, his hands reaching for his, only stopping a few inches away from them, leaving him the choice to accept or reject his touch. “We will be trying to stop Fälinn and Thjazi as rapidly as possible, that’s another fact. Whether you feel ready to come with us is the part you, and only you, have power upon”, he reminded him with gentle nervousness.

“What kind of man do you take me for, to think that I could even consider letting you face danger alone, especially when the success of your battle plan mainly rests on my physical presence, when I am meant to be the living proof of our enemies’ felony? I am nor a damsel in distress, nor an idiot, Anthony. If anything, I am stronger and wiser than you. I _do not_ want you to fight dragons for me.”

“I’m the last person on Earth -and any other planet- who would consider you a damsel in distress, Loptr”, the Prince protested, taken aback by his lover’s sudden aggressiveness “And you know it. Just because I’m ready to fight for you doesn’t mean I believe you can’t do it for yourself. I’m simply telling you that I’d understand, if going back to Asgard proved too much for you at the moment. You’re not weak, in any way, but you’re still made of flesh and blood. Giving yourself a break is _not_ a crime.”

“ _At the momen_ t, you say? Asgard will never be anything else than a repulsive nest of snakes, for me, Anthony. Now or in a hundred years. Nothing will change. The choice I have is not a choice; it is merely the possibility to be an inactive coward, or a mad masochist. Waiting for victory to be presented to me on a golden plate or diving willingly into my past nightmares. That is the choice I am being given.”

Tony blinked in astonishment. Slowly, guilt made its way through his confused thoughts.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, eyes low. “It’s all we got. And, for what it’s worth, I’d never see you as a coward, even if you decided not to confront Fälinn and Thjazi directly.”

“… I know”, Loptr sighed after a second of tense muteness. “I am not- You are not the cause of my anger. I only hate the fact that, for the umpteenth time, I am not truly being given a choice. I hate the fact that, even now that I am free from any other man’s authority, I am not giving _myself_ a true choice. But too long has my pride been stepped on; I could not bare to be a passive little thing again.”

Heart clenching with desolation and shock, Tony instinctively shook his head.

“Oh, Loptr...” He crossed the distance he had left between them, wrapped his hands around his. “I understand. But you know what? There’s something fundamentally wrong with that last sentence of yours”, he smiled, softly, almost timidly. “First of all, you’ve never been a _thing_ , and I’m sure you never considered yourself like so. Even when they wanted you to be, you knew and clung onto the certitude, deep inside, that you were a man, and a free one, too. You preferred to make yourself sick with hatred and murderous desires, rather than give up and become what they saw you as. Which means you’ve never been _passive_ either, right? As for the _small_ part… We won’t discuss it too long, if you don’t mind, ‘cause I could get somewhat vexed”, he smirked as he twisted his neck to meet his lover’s eyes, accentuating their enormous height difference. “What I deduce from this is that you couldn’t bare to be _considered_ a ‘passive little thing’ again. And it won’t happen, Loptr. No one will ever put you through that, ever again. Fälinn and Thjazi will pay, Thor will apologize for the rest of his life, and will fully accept your non-forgiveness… Pepper has felt your pain, so much, so deeply, she’s already forgiven you the pain you caused her.”

“As she should not have”, the young Giant murmured, shaking his head, eyes closing at this remorseful thought.

“Loptr. Look at me.” He slid two fingers under his chin, leading him to meet his gaze again. “Sinna Prometh was not the woman Pepper had known and loved anymore. She was about to get her arrested herself, which probably would’ve hurt her even more. No matter what your motivations were at the time… You put a tormented soul to rest, without unnecessary pain. You have nothing to blame yourself for. But if you really insist, I’ll have us take anger management courses together”, he offered with a half-smile.

“You are an impossible man”, the Jötun Prince protested in a shaky chuckle.

“The best there is, too”, he retorted with a gentle grin. “I’m serious, though. You _are_ free to choose.”

“I wish it were this easy, my love...”

“But it _is_!” he groaned. “Don’t make me start my speech all over again, you frozen incarnation of stubbornness!”

“This is a new one”, the Prince giggled lightly, leaning forward to lay a kiss on his _small_ companion's forehead. “I do admire the imagination you can put into the making of those improbable nicknames.”

“I’d rather see you enjoy my profound and heart-felt declarations on your freedom of choice”, the Midgardian grunted, arms crossed and lips contorted in a pout.

“Oh, I do enjoy them equally. It is a shame they change nothing in the choice I have already made, despite the anguish it threatens to put me through.”

Tony frowned, gratifying his lover with a confused look before his eyes widely opened in pure disbelief.

“Are you actually, _verbally_ expressing to me that nothing could change the decision you took hours ago, and that our whole conversation was just about you needing to expel the frustration born from _your_ self-constraining thought system?”

“… I do need anger management courses, so it seems”, the Jötun eventually answered, obviously having the hardest of times trying not to laugh.

“I fucking hate you”, the miffed Human declared, initiating a dignified retreat.

“Your lies are pitiful, Prince of Midgard”, Loptr teased him in a syrupy whisper, sticking to his steps as they reached the corridor. “I could teach you a great deal on the subject.”

“Start by teaching yourself not to lose your hard-working partner’s time.”

“You are suddenly being very harsh on me, for a man who previously attempted to make me profit from his ‘profound and heart-felt declarations on my freedom of choice’.”

“And you are suddenly being very childish, for a centuries-old blue goat.”

“I am merely attempting to reach your level, my darling.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Oh, I will. But before: what’s your actual decision?”

“What do you think, really?”

“You’re coming.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Are you in heat or something?”

“This is the poorest choice of qualifier I have ever heard.”

“Really? Topping the ‘centuries-old blue goat’ ?”

“I am quite fond of this one, actually.”

“You’re weird.”

“Where are we going?”

“ _I_ am going to the lab. I figured I should bring some sort of present to the guys up there, to sedate their mistrust. My vaults are filled with old inventions that never got anywhere.”

“What a sensitive attention, giving our enemies old rotting artifacts.”

“It’s far more than what they deserve, isn’t it?”


	23. Quiet Truths & Loud Lies

“Welcome to Asgard”, Thor mouthed, with a smile that surely would have shined with the most genuine pride, in any other circumstances. But on this day, no matter how high his lips rose through his cheeks, his regal vanity was merely another mask behind which he concealed his truth. A whole new mascarade to partake in. Oh, he would be no one’s fool, this time. No one’s pretty, empty puppet. This time, he would trick the spider into its own web.

This time, he was not alone.

His gaze turned to Tony, and Pepper. Just behind them, he could guess the invisible presence of both Loki -a cold, nervous breeze- and Heilari -a fine cloud of dusty sadness. Heimdall could, too, as he could see all things, in all of time and space. And still, he remained still as rock, his golden eyes only expressing his due respect to his King, and the inevitable tiredness of a man whose mind was not fully his anymore, filled with so much life, and death, joy, and pain.

Thor laid a thankful hand onto his shielded shoulder.

“You have been missed, my King”, the Guardian simply whispered, as he calmly closed the Bifrost.

“Have I?” Thor grinned lightly, without further comment, simply enjoining his guests to follow him on the Rainbow Bridge, towards the bright and allegedly divine Citadel of Asgard.

“Not much room for casual behavior here”, Tony noticed with a smirk, as he observed the gigantic, golden doors that, a hundred meters ahead, had begun to open, slowly, solemnly, for their ruler. “No wonder why you speak like a lost Shakespeare play.”

“I will act as if I had understood this reference, for I believe we have no time to lose in insolent discourses”, the King plainly replied, as he rose a hand to salute the guards who, perched upon the walls, oversaw, day and night, the lives of a few millions of Asgardians.

“Was that a sincere remark, or did you just attempt to compete with my unsurpassed sense of humor?”

“Tony”, Pepper sighed. “Forgive him, King Thor, he’s nervous”, she murmured, as she contemplated the invaluable jewel that had just started unveiling itself to her, just above their heads. “Might I say, even just from here, Asgard does seem a rather- _grand_ place”, she added with a gentle smile, as her wide, brilliant pupils mirrored the colorful immensity of the skies that surrounded them.

Over the Rainbow Bridge, Yggdrasil was wide, and bright, and infinite. On a canvas of pure darkness, the worlds spun, ever so slowly, in an endless, iridescent waltz. Blues and reds, greens and violets, variations of colors she did not even know, they all stared at her, with patient benevolence. She had no control over them, none. And it was perfectly fine. Such a rare, impossible feeling.

“Where is Earth?” she asked Thor, with the most sincere curiosity.

“Oh, you cannot perceive it from here, Milady”, the sovereign answered, a surprised, yet somewhat pleased expression running through his face, for a split instant. “Heimdall could show you. Later”, he specified with an apologetic pout.

“Yes, later”, she repeated, her voice as lost as her eyes. “Of course, later”, she whispered, and her hands gripped at her gown, smoothing its delicate fabric in a mechanical gesture. “For now, we need to present our respects to your First Counselor, and then take some rest into our chambers. Is that right?”

“That was the plan, yeah”, Tony barged in. “Just in case you’d forgotten, the two of you. Stay focused, will you?”

“Whatever do you mean, Anthony?” Thor frowned in incomprehension.

“He’s being cheeky”, the Duchess smiled. “I’m telling you: nervous.”

“There is nothing to be nervous about, Prince of Midgard. We are just about to forge a historical alliance between two worlds which have not shared any form of interaction for the past ten centuries. What sort of wrong could possibly happen?” Thor grinned, while they left the bridge for a slightly more familiar ground.

The slabs of the Royal Avenue were as white as the artificial sun that burned just above the Asgardian Palace. Gravity felt lighter here, Tony noticed, as he subtly hopped upon the solid soil. The air was filled with scents he could not recognize, and, certainly, particles that did not even exist on Earth. It was perfectly breathable, though. Different, slightly exhilarating, but breathable.

As for the people… Well, they seemed very… Human. So _normal_ , as their jaws dropped when they recognized their King, and as the latter gave them a friendly wave, though being kept apart from them by the four, placid guards that seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and now surrounded them, shielding them from the crowd.

But what harm could those Asgardians do, really? Tony felt strangely moved by their absolute non-alienness. No, really, if it were not for their medieval themed outfits and the ‘blue-eyes-light-hair’ recurrent pattern, they could have passed for direct relatives of his own subjects.

Strong with this thought and with his newly enhanced popularity among his people, the Human Prince cast a bright smile upon the whispering multitude.

“I could get used to that”, he remarked, as he gave a proud glance to a young boy’s admiring expression.

“Who just told us to focus?” Pepper replied with a grin, as they finally reached the golden Palace.

The front yard was wide and empty, except for the long, dry figure of the man they were all here to fight. Tony gritted his teeth, and furtively closed his hand upon the invisible wrist of his lover, as he could still feel him, shaking with rage and fear, right behind him.

Alone, a few steps away from them, Falinn was way too confident to even give attention to such puny details. His piercing, dark eyes were set on his King, and his smile, the one of a man who could not fear battle, for he believed he had already won, sent a revolted shiver down Tony’s spine.

“I am so very glad to welcome you back, my King”, he bowed, so deeply, the Human almost hoped he would break his own spine. “And most exhilarated to welcome you for the first time, Prince of Midgard”, he then added, and Tony froze, for a second, as he only now realized that he would actually be forced into interacting, even minimally, with this monster.

“Thanks for your past invitation, First Counselor. King Thor told me a great deal about this place. I look forward to my tourist tour around it. I believe I still have a legendary library to visit”, he smiled, as politely as he could, despite the cold grip of hatred around his heart.

“Of course, of course”, the old advisor agreed in a syrupy voice. “The Palace will be your domain for as long as you will stay. My King, may I take it upon myself to plan the Prince’s visits through the Citadel?”

“I know there is no better man than you to do so, Falinn”, Thor answered, lightly -and Tony felt a true glimpse of compassion for him, this very moment. Oh, he had so much practice in faking a composure in front of this snake. “But I gather my guests are quite eager to take some rest, for they are not yet accustomed to the Bifrost’s effects.”

“He already knows me better than myself”, Tony grinned, as he contained a slight sigh of relief. “We’re gonna be brilliant together, aren’t we?”

“I am assured we will, friend Anthony. Falinn, have you contacted Regent Thjazi, as I demanded in my last message?”

“It has been done, my King”, the Counselor confirmed willingly. “He will meet you and the Prince of Midgard tomorrow, when the sun shines the brightest. Perhaps my King would like to give a banquet, tonight, in honor of our valuable guests?”

“A reasonable one, then, Falinn”, Thor accepted, after an instant of subtle irritation. “We will need the entirety of our minds to discuss the terms of the treaty, tomorrow. I do hope you will accompany us, during the negotiations?”

“I would not dare leave your side in such important times, my King. I rest assured, besides, that I will be in excellent company, for Lady Virginia of Seasons will surely assist the Prince of Midgard in the process?”

“Indeed I will, Counselor Falinn”, Pepper smiled, as she remarkably hid her own disgust, while Falinn briefly took her hand into his, leading both Thor and Tony to clench their fists.

“King Thor”, the Midgardian Prince intervened, saving the Duchess from further repelling interactions. “You have come to me, a few moons ago, with the most precious of presents. Shall I wait for tonight’s banquet to return the favor, and hopefully dazzle your court with my very own little gift?”

“It would be an ideal occasion, yes, friend Anthony”, Thor admitted in a smile, and Tony could almost perceive a muffled laugh in his voice. He winked, ever so slightly, as Falinn, of course, bowed again, obviously ecstatic at the idea. “But I do believe my Counselor is the one who deserves the present you have prepared, for he is, after all, the one who brought our realms together, and made our valuable friendship possible.”

“Oh, Majesty!” the old man pretended to protest.

“I insist. The present will be yours, Falinn. A reward, for your good services”, the King decreed, his voice imperious, but just rightly balanced to seem slightly childish, just enough for their enemy not to fear he had lost his grasp on him.

“It is an honor, my King. My Prince. Please, allow me to conduct you to your chambers.”

And allow him they did, because they had no apparent reason to refuse. As Thor went back to his pretended responsibilities, Tony managed to keep conversation with the Counselor to its strict minimum, commenting on the impressive richness of the Palace, the beautiful, grand statues of Thor’s ancestors, and the _gorgeousness_ of the apartments that had been prepared for them, following the King’s written orders.

“Fascinating, those two traveling ravens of his”, he remarked out loud, in an ultimate effort of small talk that left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Ah, Huginn and Muninn. Magnificent creatures, indeed. Our King inherited them from the Allfather, as well as the Gungnin Spear and, of course, the Throne of Asgard.”

“Quite a legacy”, Tony noted with a fine smile.

“Quite a _responsibility_ , yes. A sacred duty which our young King has always been very keen on fulfilling, without fail.”

“An impressive leader, he is”, Pepper intervened, politely. “I’m happy you led us to meet, Counselor Falinn. Midgard, Asgard, and now Jötunheim will accomplish great deeds, together.”

“I shall hope so, Milady. I really shall hope so”, the advisor whispered, as he leaned forward to kiss her hand, apparently very confident in the magical effects of this old Midgardian practice.

She repressed a wince, changed it into a smile.

“The Prince and I will rest, now. Thank you, Counselor”, she concluded.

“Thank you, Lady Virginia. Prince of Midgard”, he ultimately saluted, before leaving them -finally.

“I’m surprised his neck doesn’t remain crooked permanently”, Tony bitterly growled, as he moved a few steps further into the full “penthouse” that had been adapted to their Human needs.

A wide, heavily ornamented _salon_ , two immense bedrooms, an equally vast bathroom, and unreasonably high windows.

“Here we are, then”, he mouthed, pensively. “Loptr?”

“The chambers have been circled with a Silence Spell”, Heilari’s voice answered in a murmur, right next to the now locked door. “In theory, we should be able to speak and act freely within those walls. We should however remain as discreet as possible. The Palace is most certainly infested with very skilled spies.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Tony muttered. “Loptr?” he inquired again, gently. “Are you here?”

“Always”, the Jötun Prince softly answered, and Tony could feel his cold, sweet breath against his neck.

“Are you all right?”

“I will reserve my judgment on that matter, for now, Anthony. Though, if you are to take some rest, I would be happy to take it with you.”

The Midgardian Prince bit his inner lip, then glanced, furtively, to Pepper.

“Stealth mode, Tony”, she simply replied, a tired smile appearing on his lips as she kindly patted his shoulder.

“Of course. Yeah. Sure. Sure. Um. Okay. Good rest, then. See you at the banquet, I suppose.”

“I think it’ll be quite hard to miss you, if you truly intend to ‘dazzle the court’”, she remarked with a smirk. “Just, don’t make this too much of a spectacle, Tony. Less is more. We don’t want to overdo it.”

“No. Of course not. I swear, I’ll keep it simple. There’s too much at stake.”

“I’m glad you remember it.”

“Hey! I wasn’t the one gazing at the stars like I’d never looked through a telescope before!”

“I never had the time to look through a telescope before, Anthony. I’ve been quite busy ruling your and your father’s government.”

“Well said, Lady Virginia”, Loptr chuckled.

“Wha- Are you two plotting against me now? Heilari, help me out, here, will you? Heilari?”

“I believe he has taken over one of the sofas, my love”, Loptr informed him. “He has used up most of his energy building the Silent Walls around us, so my own _seidr_ could keep on regenerating, and making itself stronger, just in case. We should mirror his choices, and take all the rest we can get. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“… Yeah. Agreed. Go ahead, I’ll join you. Pepper?” he murmured, as he felt Loptr’s gentle and cold presence leave his side to join their bed. “You like this place, don’t you?”, he whispered after a moment of hesitant muteness, his eyes low, under her curious gaze.

“It is a beautiful Palace, yes”, she admitted, rising a surprised eyebrow, “but nothing really different from the Tower, in the end.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. The stars. You like the stars”, he specified, calmly, yet with a hint of melancholia.

“Is it so surprising?” she laughed quietly, despite her internal concern growing louder and louder, as her friend’s expression evolved again, growing less and less- cheerful. “You’ve been telling me about them forever. Shouldn’t you be happy that I see them the way you do, now?”

“You don’t see them the way I do, Pep’. I wanted to travel. You want to stay”, he mouthed, softly, his eyes filled with tender sadness. “With him.”

“Tony-”

“I’m not blaming you. He needs you.”

“You need me too”, she whispered in a strangled voice, as so many words came rushing by her tongue, but failed to pass the barriers of her lips, leaving her with nothing but the truth.

“A little less now than before. You know it.”

“I- I do.”

“I’m not accusing you, or trying to make you feel guilty. I’d just like to know, when your decision is made. Please? As a friend. I’m asking you as a friend.”

“And as a friend, I will- keep you posted”, she murmured with a faint, nervous chuckle, as, for the first time, _she_ lowered her eyes.

“Thank you”, he smiled, gently, before laying a kiss on her forehead. “Good nap, Lady Virginia.”

“To you too, Prince Anthony.”

He let out a silent sigh, as she disappeared into her designated room.

Then he joined his lover into their own bed, drawing a slightly more joyous smile as Loptr used an infinitesimal spark of his magic to close the heavy, wooden door behind him.

“Feels kind of weird, knowing you’re here, but not being able to see you. I think my Cartesian spirit is trying to compensate for the paradox: I’m starting to hallucinate I can actually, clearly contemplate you.”

“I appreciate your choice of words”, the Jötun chuckled lightly. “Contemplate.”

“Is there any other way to look at you?”

“Now you just want to make me blush.”

“I don’t need to, I just have to imagine you doing it.”

“Quite true. I do hope it is all you are imagining me doing.”

“Definitely not.”

“Tss… And I am the uncontrollably desirous one.”

“You’re the one stroking my thigh.”

“Are you sure this is not a product of your imagination?”

“Don’t play with me, Prince of Jötunheim”, he grunted, smiling nevertheless as a burning sparkle of excitation ran through his blood.

“You played with me, the time you took me for the first time”, Loptr reminded him in a soft whisper, his cold, cold lips winging at his right ear. “ _Fore_ play; is it not how it is called?”

“Hm, not quite the same thing, love.”

“Really? The Voice in the Walls, JARVIS, he explained it to me. Foreplay means preparing, does it not? _Rising the heat?_ I do wonder how your warmth would feel inside me… It is told fire and ice make quite the perfect match, when balanced properly. Shall we put the hypothesis to test, my clever Prince?” he innocently asked, as his glacial hand ran underneath his lover’s attires, meeting with the soft skin of his inner thigh.

“Ngh- Isn’t that a bit imprudent?” the Human wondered as his lover’s lips descended on his neck, leaving a trail of icy kisses upon his skin.

“Silence Spell, my love. As long as you do not scream...”

“Why should _I_ be the one screaming?”

“Because you are the one who never received attention from a man whose skin is dozens degrees apart from yours.”

“Oh, because _you_ did?”

“I had a life, before being stolen away, Anthony”, he growled against his skin, his teeth nibbling at his collarbone. “I was not a child anymore. I was a Prince, and a warrior, and a perfectly good seducer, may I say.”

“Careful, I’m quite the jealous type.”

“Which is precisely why I am telling you this.”

“Bad boy, you are”, the Midgardian groaned, as a deep shudder found its way under his lover’s lips. “So you had Humans in your bed before?”

“No. Elves and Vanirs. Quite a similar bodily temperature.”

“And you made them scream.”

“With utter joy.”

“I bet you did… Why no Midgardians? Too far away?”

“Oh, no. I simply always believed their fragile little bodies could not survive a night with me”, he purred, his hands firmly gripping at Tony’s hips, their glacial touch piercing through his shirt, gently burning his sensitive flesh.

“I’m the sulky type too, Reindeer Games, so mind your words, will you?”

“Or what?”

“I’ll leave this bed and go sleep on the couch.”

“This sounds like a reply from those strange ‘T.V. Shows’ and ‘Soap Operas’ you have on Earth.”

“Yeah, well, life imitates art. Well, art. Anyway. My body may be little, but it’s not fragile. Got that?”

“I never said it was. You are no ordinary Human, dear lover.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“With you, it will get me anywhere I want.”

“Oh, you know me far too well for my own good.”

“Believe me, my Prince”, the Jötun smiled widely, his voice filled with tender mischievousness, “believe me when I say, it is _your own good_ I am after, this very moment.”

Without further ado, he swiftly unfastened his partner’s belt, and wrapped his frozen lips around the tip of his stiffening member.

The Human’s eyes opened wide, the sweet hazelnut of his irises soon filled with the luxurious black of his expanding pupils.

“You evil f- Ah!”

He grasped at the silk sheets, his whole body tensing in a combination of exquisite pleasure and exhilarating confusion. He did subsequently attempt to pull at his lover’s locks -whether it was for revengeful purposes or simply because his hair was where his hands wanted to be, he could not quite tell-, but only his lover’s soft laugh responded to his tries, as Loptr easily grabbed his Human’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress. His chuckle resonated against Tony’s captive cock, sending a set of slight vibrations all the way to his base, leaving him rock hard, and already needy for more.

“Okay, I get your point, you win, you really do, now can you just- Agh! Loptr”, he mouthed, closing his eyes in a hopeless effort to get his focus back. “Someone will hear-”

“Mh-hm”, his loving tormentor denied, and he could feel him shake his head, as his cheeks hollowed, closing their walls tightly around him, taking him deeper and deeper, only to release him, half a second later.

“What part of _Silence Spell_ do you not understand, my sensitive Midgardian?” he whispered, his fingers briefly gripping at his thighs, his nails carving a light, pink trail in his skin, ascending all the way up to his abdomen, under his -useless- shirt. “If you really fear being witnessed, you may take it upon yourself to contain your demonstrations of pleasure. I never forced you into moaning, did I?”

“No wonder why you have horns- Ha!” he growled, leading his fist to his mouth and biting into it with obstinate passion, as Loptr slid his freezing tongue on his length, giving a teasing lick at his leaking tip, before taking him whole again, and initiating a devilishly slow back-and-forth motion.

As he finally managed to take a grasp at his lover’s hair, Tony kept his eyes shut and his lips sealed, leaving only the trembling jolts of his hips and the shivering fabric of his flesh to manifest how terribly pleasurable this new, strange sensation was.

“Aren’t you going to let me return the favor?” he eventually asked, his attempt to a smile only leading him to a new contained moan, which brought yet another chuckle into Loptr’s throat -and said chuckle made Tony feel like a completely, utterly, deliciously hopeless rag doll, powered by this strange energy called lust, born from ice, and fire.

“Mh”, the Jötun smiled, his lips sliding their way up his cock, sucking at his head for a few seconds, before freeing him in a gentle lick, a fine strand of both saliva and precum linking his hardworking mouth to his lover’s blushing tip, for a second. “I am afraid your tongue would remain trapped on me like on a glacial piece of metal in winter, love”, he giggled, as he used yet another twinkle of magic to undress them both, fully, bringing Tony to a shocked cry, as their bodies were newly pressed against each other, his warm flesh overwhelmed by the ice of Loptr’s epidermis.

“The comparison could’ve been a bit more exciting, but I’ll take it”, he managed to gasp, eventually.

“I do not believe you need any more excitement, my dear Anthony”, Loptr replied lightly, leaning over for a kiss, as his own cock came rubbing against his. He gently closed his right hand around them both, stroking them in a slow, patient movement, supported by the soft rocking of his hips. “Tell me”, he panted, quietly, “is it my tongue that made you so hard, so swiftly? Or maybe the feeling of leaving me in charge of your pleasure?”

“Ngh- Loptr-”

“Just tell me, love, and I will put you out of your misery.”

“I’m not miserable!”

“I know you, Anthony”, he smirked, as his hips gave a strong thrust against his, making the friction of their equally hard cocks almost intolerable.

“Agh- Fuck-”

“So?”

“I love- having you in charge- _and_ your tongue is amazing”, the Human moaned, deeply. “Satisfied?”

“T-t-t, I will not have you being cheeky, now”, he purred, his free fingers tightening around his hair, pulling at them to expose his neck, and burning an imperious bite in his skin.

“That’s not the cheeky me and you know it”, Tony retorted in a weak smile, eyes still closed, his hands blindly sliding on his back, finding their way to his ass. “Cheeky _you_ , though.”

“Shut it, impertinent mortal”, Loptr grinned, as he forced him into silence, leading his tongue between his lips, before he tranquilly raised his hips, separating their leaking members, and leading Tony right into him, in one, swift thrust. “Ah… Norns...”

“ _ **Hell**_ ”, the Human nearly screamed against his lover’s lips, his nails sinking into his cheeks.

“I do hope- ah!- you feel comfortable in the female part of me, love”, Loptr whispered, as he quivered in excitement. “It has been so long- I have been dripping with lust for _hours,_ now...”

“Yeah- I can- feel that...”

“Is it- Is it good?”

“It’s you, of course it’s good”, Tony mouthed, slightly opening his eyes, to realize his lover had made himself visible again -voluntarily or under the impulse of pleasure, that he could not say. “Hello”, he smiled, brushing his fingers on the arch of his back, all the way to his neck.

“Hello, Anthony”, the Jötun Prince chuckled gently, before biting his inner lip, forcing it to muffle a sweet, soft moan, only for Tony to be perceived, as the Midgardian gently rocked his hips under his, slowly finding his marks within his partner’s drenched labia. “Oh- Oh, Anthony- Oh, Norns- More”, he demanded, imperious and beseeching, all at once. “ _Now_.”

“Thought you enjoyed being in charge, darling?” the Human whirred, laying a kiss on his chin. “Give yourself what you need, my love.”

Loptr blinked in confusion, as Tony stopped moving inside him, simply laying his hands on his hips, and waiting.

“You are such hard work”, he pretended to complain in a pout, before smiling anew and throwing his head back, as he steadied his own hands on his lover’s upper thighs, and worked his hips, up and down, round and round, faster and faster.

When Tony closed his hand around his neglected cock, he could only press his lips against his to contain a desperate whimper -and, quickly, another one, growing louder and louder as their pleasure built itself under their skin, leaving them panting and voiceless for maybe, one, two, three minutes. The dazzling ecstasy of their improbable -yet so very real- complementarity led them to their orgasm just a few seconds apart, their hearts beating together in an anarchic partition of victorious drums.

Exhausted and content, Loptr let all of his weight fall against his Human’s burning body, leading Tony to laugh and choke at the same time.

“That was… Very, very imprudent”, he eventually murmured, without a single hint of regret.

“Silence Spell. I will write it on a shirt for you”, Loptr retorted.

“You won’t.”

“Want to bet?”

“I’m not gambling with you anymore. I’m gambling enough with myself”, he added in a wince, as he took a look at the clock. “I should prepare for the banquet.”

“What do you mean, gambling with yourself?” the young Jötun wondered as he wrapped his arms around him, keeping him close for at least a few more seconds.

“Well, more like, gambling with fate, or luck, if you will. Do you know what I’m planning to offer Falinn?”

“Why, yes, you chose the gift in my presence. A sophisticated musical instrument, is it not?”

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” the Prince giggled as he extended a hand to his traveling bag, taking out a small set of pipes, clinging together with the help of a golden, plaited chain. “It’s a very sophisticated vacuum system, invented by fifteen-years-old-me to prevent the Tower’s toilets from clogging”, he explained, extremely seriously.

Loptr stared at him with utter disbelief, and for a second, he thought he was about to receive a pillow through the head.

But soon, they both burst out laughing, and, for a split moment, forgot all about Falinn, his web, his crimes, and the whole, wide, frightening world.


	24. Mayhem

Loptr – Loki? – stared at the astonished crowd, his whole body a world of tension, and confusion, and fear. At the corner of his eye, he met Tony’s gaze, and a burning rock started growing just between his ribs, inside his heart, tearing it apart, second by second, as the terrifying reach of his reckless intervention appeared right in front of him, impersonated in the long, dry body of a gray, old man, whose smooth expression, ever so subtle, whispered to him words that no one could hear, and that he, most of all, could not bare to understand.

Falinn stared back at him, perfectly immobile, still sitting in his vast, comfortable armchair, in front of a cooling plate of red, bloody meat.

Thor remained mute, fists clenching on the armrests of his golden throne. The Duchess had metamorphosed back into a marble statue. And Tony- Oh, Tony.

“Well. There’s only one way for us all to know”, he eventually murmured, and, for a second, there was a glimpse of assurance in his shattered voice. “I demand a Trial Before the Norns.”

***

_One hour earlier_

 

The feast was as exaggeratedly grand as Tony had expected it to be. The Asgardian aristocracy was a bombastic display of blinding color and dull conversations, men hitting each other’s shoulders in the metallic complaint of their shining armors, as their wives, mothers, daughters and other female relatives gathered in small, whispering groups, forced into discretion by what the Human could only suppose to be the Court’s protocol. Caught between a Vanir Princess and one of Thor’s aunts, Pepper seemed both bored and aghast, her hands nervously playing with the delicate folds of her simplistic dress. He contained a wince, as he gave her an encouraging wave.

The Hall of Banquets extended its disproportionate length from one side of the Palace to the other – the first window gave all guests a splendid view of the gardens, the last one offered a panoramic sight of the faraway downtown, where a family of ten could live in one single room, and be fed with half a deer for a whole week. Well, that the Midgardian could not actually know, for he had not really been given the time to observe the daily life of the Asgardian people, but still, there was a blatant contrast between the smallest houses, up in the green hills, and the gigantic castle, and there were only so many deductions one could make from such an obvious social dichotomy.

As he thought of how he could lead such inequalities to disappear in his own country, a young maiden, lost in a velvet gown that was evidently too wide for her, let out a light cough, right behind his back. As he turned away from the crystal clear pane, she immediately dropped on her knees, and bent her neck before he could even meet her gaze. He could not keep his disapproval to himself, this time, for her behavior painfully reminded him of how Loptr was forced to act in front of him, in the first days.

“Please, do stand up”, he gently observed, hand reaching out to meet hers.

“Your Highness is too kind”, she protested in a timid whisper, her eyes avoiding his as she, nevertheless, got back on her feet. “I am mandated to serve you, tonight, your Highness. The banquet will soon begin, your Highness. I will lead you to your place next to our good King, your Highness, and I will be your personal servant for the evening, your Highness. If you wish for-”

“What’s your name?” he softly asked, his smile tinted with a glimpse of sadness.

“M- My name, your Highness?”

“Yes, your name. Doesn’t anyone ever ask?”

“I- My name is quite irrelevant, your Highness.”

“I’ve heard that before, and I didn’t like it”, he denied in a frown. “See, I’m not from Asgard. Just between you and me, let’s say we’ll play by my rules, okay?” he murmured with a wink.

“O-kay?”

“So, tell me your name”, he patiently demanded.

“Solari. My name is Solari, your Highness”, she eventually confessed, hastily. “Thank you for asking, your Highness”, she smiled, shyly, in a renewed curtsy. “Please, do follow me, your Highness, you must be hungry.”

Oh, truly, he was not. Everything in this Palace made him feel a bit sicker by the minute, and Loptr’s absence only made it worse, as he could not help but fear that they had been seen, or heard, by a heartless twist of fate. He smiled, nonetheless, and made a point of acting like the most courteous of guests, as he joined Thor and Pepper, rose his over-sized cup of red wine when the King declared the feast officially open, and captivated the crowd’s attention as he presented, with utter seriousness and obsequiousness, the fantastic musical instrument he had decided to bless the First Counsellor with, for his wonderful implication in this brilliant, new friendship. But despite the magnificent, ridiculous joke his whole discourse represented, despite the internal jubilation he had felt, just an hour before, when Loptr and he had laughed their hearts out over the true utility of this improbable object, he still could not chase his concern away.

He was painfully attempting to finish his very first plate when Falinn, unfortunately sitting right next to him, decided to initiate conversation again, in a sugary speech of gratitude.

“You’re very welcome”, the Prince politely smiled back, hidden behind his glass of wine.

“Rest assured I will find a way to return the favor, your Highness. Maybe could I begin just now, by offering you pieces of information you might still ignore on our beautiful realm? It would most certainly be pleasant for you to plan your excursions ahead. I know how a journey through the Branches of Yggdrasil can be baffling. Organizing your future days could well prove a good way for you to settle your body and mind, as I wish you to do, in order to fully enjoy your stay.”

“How very thoughtful of you”, Tony grinned, as he reluctantly bit into a small portion of meat. “I appreciate your preoccupation. But I guess I’d better start ‘settling my body and mind’ just now, since we’re meeting Regent Thjazi not later than tomorrow. Would be kind of disappointing, if I weren’t able to discuss important matters with he and King Thor, wouldn’t it?”

“I had not thought of it this way, I must admit, but you are quite right. May I propose to have a Potion of Serenity prepared for you by our healers, then?”

“Oh, no thanks”, he immediately replied, maybe a tad too promptly, his eyes growing wider for a second, as he already imagined himself poisoned to death. “I’ll be quite all right. Tell me, though. How’s Jötunheim, these days? My knowledge of the place is still a bit limited, I must say”, he pretended to wince, the warm brown of his irises turning one shade darker as he scrutinized the Counsellor’s face, wondering how deep that old snake could dig his own grave, in the mud of his lies.

“It is very honorable of you to admit it, my Prince”, the diplomat politely observed, as he methodically wiped his hands in an immaculate cloth. “And quite intelligent, also, to try and be as informed as you can be, in order to have a better understanding of what will be at stake, during this – summit meeting, if I may say.”

“Precisely – I do like to start up on the right foot”, the Midgardian smirked, edgily. “So. Jötunheim?”

“Jötunheim, yes”, the Counsellor echoed, as he seemingly gathered his thoughts for a few mute seconds. “Well, I am glad to say that Jötunheim is in a flourishing state – if I may allow myself this choice of words. The Peace Treaty of Utgard brought economic and social enhancement to both our realms. Fertility was sadly a major issue in the Jötun community, before and during the war. Since the Treaty, it has thankfully grown from a hundred births by year to an approximation of two thousands. Centuries passing, the population has known a notable rejuvenation, and has now new hands to give work to, in the mines and the fields. A small Asgardian colony has been established next to the Capital, in sign of good understanding, would you say. A Jötun village has been installed in our mountains, also. Slowly but surely, our people are being brought together. It is no rare thing, around these parts, to see blond children running around with dark haired, blue skinned young. Quite a beautiful thing to see, really”, he concluded in a wide smile, in which Tony put absolutely no trust. Deceptions, again and again, surely. Oh, how he regretted, suddenly, not to have traveled to Jötunheim, just once, incognito, so he could know, exactly, how false all of those content declarations were.

As his irritation slowly burnt its embers in his blood, a chilling draught ran down his spine, and he took a distracted look at one of the open windows, from where they could see a parcel of the starry night.

“I’m happy to hear that”, he eventually whispered, absent-mindedly. “Regent Thjazi is a good ruler, I gather, then?” he pursued.

“Oh, an excellent one”, Falinn confirmed in an enthusiastic nod. “The circumstances in which he acquired the Jötun throne represent one of the most heartbreaking tragedies this realm has known, but he truly has transcended them. He is a very good representative of his people. Faithful, determined, strong, and, may I say, quite wise. Laufey, Farbauti and Loptr, may the Norns bless their valiant souls, were warriors, you see? Their blood was warmer than their people’s, and by far. There was a form of cleavage between their ideologies and the needs of their nation. Oh, I am certain the young Prince could have learned to be a great, great King, had he had the time to temper his ardor – but, ah, fate was too cruel with him for his heart to mend. You know the story, I believe?” he wondered, before letting out a saddened sigh. “He let himself die, alongside his parents’ grave. A tragedy, really, it is the only word. The most terrible of consequences a war such as this one could bring to a man, and a kingdom. It is considered a symbol by the Regent, you know? The terrible image of the peace that must be kept, at all costs. Maybe should I not say this, but, you know, he kept the poor Prince’s body. When his pain took him to Valhalla, his uncle called the most delicate hands in the realm, so they would embalm him, and keep him forever, in the bright force of his youth. He is still exposed, secretly, in a hidden temple, where my friend Thjazi comes and prays, every night. Here, he gathers the strength for the next day – the strength to be the best ruler he can b-”

“LIAR!”

A shocked whisper ran through the crowd. Silence fell on the Hall as eagle on its prey. Tony froze in horror.

“LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!”, the terrifyingly familiar voice screamed anew, hoarse and dangerous, dolorous and hateful.

And Loptr’s hand was around Falinn’s neck, and it was pressing it so hard, Tony could distinctively hear the beginning of a snap, before his lover was stopped by the agitated hands of three, four, five guards and guests, their alcoholic breaths infesting the air around them as their sharp, metallic garments sank into the young Jötun’s flesh, cutting and bruising while they forced him to step back.

“NO! _Don’t hurt him!_ ” he heard himself yell as he jumped on his feet, his eyes widening with the horrified comprehension of what had just happened. Oh, Loptr, Loptr, Loptr, no…

“LET ME GO”, his partner hissed, furiously. “LET ME- HE’S LYING, EVERY WORD- LET ME GO!”

“ _Let him go, don’t hurt him, stop, I said, stop_!” Tony begged, desperately trying to override Loptr’s enraged cries and the Asgardians brutal grunts, as they put all their strength, all their weight against him, pushing him to the ground, their feet carving his back, their weapons ready to strike.

“ _No one will die tonight_ ”, the powerful voice of the King lastly growled, leading Tony to moan in relief, one hand shaking just above his mouth, his inferior lid drowned in shocked tears. “Keep the disruptive presence under good guard, but do not harm him, it is an order”, Thor commanded, his voice deep and yet trembling, as he desperately sought a helping glance from Pepper, who was mirroring Tony’s position, her beautiful features crumbling in perfect synchronization with the entirety of their late plan. “I have offered this evening to peace and harmony, I will have none of the beings in my presence be strangled or beaten to death”, Thor ultimately concluded, with as much certitude as a child trying to command his own parents.

“I do thank you for your intervention, my King”, Falinn mouthed, and said King seemed closer than ever to breaking down, as he realized he still desperately needed the Counsellor’s approval in order to feel heard, to feel obeyed.

His hand massaging his sore throat and his eye slowly dancing from one man to the other, the old advisor gave a light sign of the head to his personal guard, who had just come in reinforcement. Regretfully, they receded, and remained still, waiting for their time to come.

“No true harm has been done”, Falinn observed, with a calm only he appeared to master. “Besides, we should pity this poor soul more than we should blame it for its aborted crime.”

“ _I’_ _ll_ _have no pity_ _on_ _you, you filthy son of a bitch, when my hands will be free to snatch your tongue from your mouth_ ”, the Jötun Prince hissed back, as he released his mouth from one of the soldiers’ grip.

“A freedom I am afraid you will not be given, Slave Loki.”

“LOKI IS NOT MY NAME”, he thundered in pure fury, his feet digging in the solid ground as he vainly attempted to throw himself at the Counsellor again. “I AM LOPTR, OF JÖTUNHEIM, AND I AM NOR CORPSE EMBALMED IN A FROZEN CRYPT, NOR SLAVE IN YOUR NEST OF RATS!”

Tony shuddered in moral agony, fingers uselessly washing away his tears, as he only now realized how weak his lover seemed, how burnt his beautiful skin appeared, how thin and gritty his hair looked, barely still attached to his head – and his clothes, ragged, destroyed, still smoking with, with what?

“Don’t hurt him”, he pleaded, again, his legs weaker than the ones of a newborn as he made his body into a risible barrier, between the Asgardian menace and his companion.

“I heard you”, Loptr spat out, his voice crackling with pain and hatred, as his strengths kept on abandoning him, “I heard your lies, every single one of them, and you will hear the truth now, _all of you!_ ” he screamed towards the mass. “I’ve seen Jötunheim, I’ve burnt my skin through time and space to see _my people_ , my friends, my kingdom – I’ve seen everything – your men raped my people, and found pleasure in their screams as they muffled them, for the sake of _peace –_ oh, no wonder why so many children were born, no wonder why they are so many to grow old in the mines and the fields – your Asgardian colony is an outpost, and the Jötun people in your mountains are merely an amusement field for your monsters – the blond children spit on the gaunt figures of my nation’s babies, and your blond men use their fathers and mothers as whores for their feasts, just as I was sent as a pleasure toy for the men who should’ve been my friends – and you, _you_ , you and your puppets – _you all, you’re all his puppets!_ You, and you, and you! And he turns you into monsters, and you let him be, and never do you think you could, you should squish him under your feet – well I’ve got news for you – that’s what you do to spiders, that’s how spiders die, that’s how HE SHOULD DIE!”

“Silence, Jötun scum!” a guard growled from afar, as the ones around him violently tried to hush him again, ignoring Tony’s feeble prayers.

“Oh, but he is no Jötun”, Falinn calmly intervened, his face unaltered, his voice too peaceful, too steady.

Tony felt a burn strike right through his heart. Oh, the fear he had kept inside this whole time, how real, how prophetic it suddenly seemed.

Silence caught the whole room for the second time. Even Loptr froze, the wrath in his eye tempered by a confused, unspoken questioning – a brief moment of pure shock that allowed the brutes around him to muffle him yet again.

They all waited, hanging on the old man’s every word.

“He is Loki, a simple soldier from the Ancient Guard of Odin”, the Counsellor revealed, serenely. “An unsteady creature, filled with a curiosity once beautiful, but soon corrupted by the old magic he learned from an unfaithful Vanir sorcerer, named Heilari, whose hatred of the Asgardian glory is secret to no initiated man”, he peacefully unveiled, fingers running on the edge of the wooden table, all the way to a small piece of white bread. “Oh, he never should have known war”, he sighed, woefully. “War is a dangerous fire to throw explosive powder in, is it not? What had to happen happened. In the flames of death and blood, he went mad. He killed as many of his own men as he killed Jötun folk. The Great Odin kept him a secret, as he had to, so the Asgardian people would not fear. For his own security as much as for the kingdom’s, his memories were wiped from his mind, washed away with his contaminated magic. Then, he was given the only rightful punishment other than death – he became a slave. Today, sadly, I can only see the mistake in our mercy, for the sorcerer who once corrupted his mind found a way to capture his soul again. Did he plant those memories forcefully inside your head, Slave Loki? Was it painful, the way he sent them into you?”, he asked, brows knitted in a worried pattern, his eye probing the prisoner’s bewildered features with a grim spark of comprehension. “Oh, I am afraid it was. And now, you cannot see what is real and what is not; you cannot trust your own mind. How clever of him, to make you believe you were a poor, fallen Prince. Is he here with you today, to play with your spirit, again and again? They are never far, those who want to control us, you are quite right”, he murmured, his head moving from left to right, his face almost the one of a compassionate grand-father, suddenly. “Did you manipulate the Prince of Midgard in return? When the King and I were gracious enough to send you to a planet where no one knew you, where no one would attempt to take revenge on you for your crimes, where no one would try to murder you, did you not meet a young Vanir, with golden locks and dark eyes, who beamed with red, invasive magic? How can you know he did not plant the seed of corruption back into your heart, this night? Oh, you killed him, is it not proof enough that your soul was yet again prey to hatred, and madness? From this day, did you not put all of your strengths into your desire of leaving Midgard, did you not persuade your Master to travel the stars all the way to Vanaheim, where you freed the traitor Heilari from his cage, hence giving him the means to play with you again, for his own revenge, his own selfish desires? How can you know, really, poor, poor soul, what is true and what is not? I am so sorry, Prince Anthony”, he pursued in a shake of the head, as he turned towards the Human, whose body felt like a field of mines, his mind, a sea of thoughts and contradictions in which he drowned, slowly, as the cry of a crow came taunting him, telling him he had never been safe, always been watched.

At the corner of his eye, Thor fell back into his seat, his traits showing his age in a terrifying image of helplessness, and despondency.

Huginn and Muninn – _magnificent creatures._

“Trust is a terrible thing”, Falinn continued, and Tony turned an empty, lost visage to him. “I am sorry, if he led you to feel for him – he does attract compassion – even I cannot bare to see what has been done to his unfortunate mind. Do not worry, my Prince, you are not charged with the crimes of Loki, as he is not quite guilty of his own, really. Ah- Heilari, vile traitor, show yourself!” he ordered, his voice filled with impossible emotion. “We know you are here, as invisible as you made your puppet to reach me. Maybe are you just next to our King? Do be careful, Majesty”, he suddenly enjoined Thor, a spark of truthful concern running through his dry, long face.

“Enough”, Thor whispered, and his hands clenched around his head.

“Ah, here he is”, Falinn disobeyed, his voice filled with relief, as all eyes rushed in the same direction.

Half hidden behind a curtain, Heilari was shaking, pale as death. Just a second after, a squad of twenty armored men was circling him, and his whole body was covered with restrictions, both physical and magical.

Trust was a terrible thing.

“Loptr”, Tony whispered, his voice merely audible as he gave him a hopeless look, desperate to see in his face the rage that would prove there was no reason to doubt.

But Loptr – Loki? – had not even attempted to start struggling against his assailants again. Still and mute, he fixed an invisible point in space – or time.

“He is Loki, Prince Anthony”, Falinn murmured, so gently the Human felt inexorably attracted to him. “I assure you. If he were Loptr – and he cannot be, because Loptr is gone, and Loptr is exposed in a sacred chapel, on the ground of his ancestors –, he would _know_ , deep in his heart, would he not? He would not doubt his own thoughts, like he does. Look at him. See him. Have mercy on him.”

“I- I… Loptr...”

“He’s lying”, the Jötun – Asgardian? – muttered weakly, his hands shaking, his eyes filled with burning waters. “He must be – it’s a trap”, he mouthed, and Tony only now realized that, for the very first time, his lover spoke just like him; there was no room for decorum in his words, not anymore; he was lost. “It must be – he caught Heilari and, and put him there, it’s a set-up, that’s what it is – the crows are his spies, and he watched us all this time, and he, and he let us come here, just so he could end it all once and for all, just so he could, just so-”

“How can you not be sure? Loki, please tell me you’re sure, Loki, please-”

He bit his tongue, painfully. No. Not Loki, no, it could not be. They had come this far. They had-

The man in the blue skin and ragged apparel threw a glance just as empty as his to the silent multitude. Time fell into the hourglass, for ten seconds that felt just like the whole life, past, present and future, of his collapsing Universe.

“Well. There’s only one way for us all to know”, he eventually murmured, and, for a second, there was a glimpse of assurance in his shattered voice. “I demand a Trial Before the Norns.”


	25. Taking A Chance

The guests hissed in shock. Loptr straightened his spine, lifted his chin up.

“King Thor, I demand a Trial Before the Norns”, he stated anew, his voice a vibrating flow of attempted assurance, as he turned towards his former owner.

The monarch could only part his lips with astonished incertitude. The incredulous whispers of the outraged crowd filled the wide and abnormally heated hall, brought from lips to lips, deformed through one’s grimaces and another’s denying nods, right until Falinn, still flaunting a face that merely showed his surprise, shook his head in a light laugh.

“Now, now, poor thing, you cannot truly understand the matter you are tackling- My King, should we not escort your past servant to a place where he can- unwind from the present events?” he politely suggested, as he too turned to the stupefied sovereign.

“What the fuck is a Trial Before the Norns?!” Tony ultimately managed to ask, his voice crackling a bit more by the second, his tone reaching new highs as Pepper nervously laid a hand on his shoulder, keeping him as far from the dangerous scene as possible.

“We Midgardians do fail to understand what this particular form of proceeding is about, King Thor”, she swiftly rephrased, the clear seas of her irises stirred with the infinite black of her widening pupils, her nervousness painfully kept in the depths of her chest, as she glanced to the equally tense invitees.

“A Trial Before the Norns is a very ancient ceremony of ours, Milady”, Falinn courteously intervened, before Thor could even gather his thoughts together.

Virginia bit her inner lip, as she well noticed a stiffening in the King’s jaws and fists. Nevertheless, she could only pretend to give a somewhat cordial attention to the magistrate, as he only seemed able to give her a full, articulate answer, for the moment.

“It is held on the Thundery Hills”, Falinn pursued, serenely, as if he had never been accused of the most terrible crimes, as if there was no chance that he would, one day, face this long-forgotten ritual, “right behind the rocky mountains, where it is believed that the Norns first gave life to our lands, our flesh and our minds. There still remains a link between our world and theirs, our unholy lives and their supreme deity. A Trial Before the Norns simply is the ultimate justice a man, from whatever origins, can ask for. Only his Makers are then allowed to judge his complaint and the guilt of his presumed tormentor. The complainant and the defendant are asked to spend the night before in complete reclusion and prayer, so their souls are free from any form of earthy influences. When the time comes, they are brought to the Hills. Only a very small delegation is allowed to accompany them. The King may chose to assist, or not. Often, he declines, for he acknowledges the futility of his own power, as compared to our Designers’. The complainant then proceeds to express his grievances. The defendant gets his chance to object to the accusations, naturally. Then, they await. Judgment is told to be quite immediate, and quite definitive. Death, death in the strike of a heavenly blaze, is the only sentence, for the one who accused falsely, or the one who lied in his attempt to save himself from a rightful condemnation”, he concluded, plainly, his long, gnarled fingers dancing carelessly on the armrests of his chair.

As silence wrapped its sly arms around the shivering audience, Loptr smiled, ever so slightly. Only Tony, eyes wide with disbelief, seemed to notice this improbable sign of satisfaction.

“ _Is told do?_ ” the Human eventually repeated, as he threw a highly suspicious glance to the Counsellor. “What’s that supposed to mean? Hasn’t anyone assisted to this- thing before?”

“Oh, the Ancients most certainly did”, the old man replied, with a warmth that brought the taste of bile against the Midgardian’s tongue. “Twenty thousand years ago, they gathered – the wisest men of their time, truly – to create the scrolls and books we know as sacred today. There is no doubt they gave us the most accurate description of what they had witnessed, is there?”

“ _Twenty thousand years ago_?” Tony nearly shouted, and Pepper’s hand clamped on him with urgent despair, as Loptr’s smile disappeared, and his still harshly burnt head moved from left to right, so subtly no one appeared to see him, this time.

“Does it matter?” Falinn innocently queried.

“Definitely not, Counsellor”, the Duchess took upon herself to answer, as Tony’s mouth gasped on thin air and astonished frustration. “Time simply appears as a very relative thing, for your people and ours. We do understand how this ceremony is- extraordinary, to say the least. Thank you for your thorough explanations.”

“King Thor”, Loptr hastily resumed, as his confused guards loosened their grip on his throat, allowing him better fluency, if anything else, “the decision is yours to make. This too is written in the sacred scrolls, if I may highlight a slight omission from our very well aware common friend. _Of Asgard, the Golden Son will judge the necessity of a Sacred Trial, as he will ensure the well-being of both complainant and defendant during the entirety of the holy procedures_. I know the rules, my King”, he added with a light glimpse of renewed confidence – he knew this, he truly did, no one had planted theses ideas in his brain, no, he remembered being that young Prince, studying old, old laws in a boring, boring classroom…

“The situation clearly is extraordinary”, Tony observed to Thor’s attention, after an inquisitive glare to his Prime Minister and to his lover’s determined expression. “I personally recognize my inability to judge it objectively. Maybe, indeed, our- Creators could be the only appropriate arbiters in this confusing case”, he prudently added, each word tearing a new burn in his chest, as he could not help but be revolted in the face of the distasteful twists of words he had to use, in order to give his companion a chance to fulfill his plan – a plan Tony did not even understand yet, for he simply could not believe there were, somewhere above, creatures like the ones those _twenty thousand years old_ myths described.

And as he spoke, he sincerely pitied the Asgardian King, whose disorientation was so clear to see, as his eyes, just like his thoughts, surely, bounced from a protagonist to the other.

For a second, Tony felt Pepper’s hesitation. Her hand on his shoulder shifted, subtly, almost imperceptibly, and her breath ceased caressing the hair on his neck, as he could guess she turned her worried face towards Thor.

The Prince lowered his head. A light, ghostly smile briefly animated his lips, before he pivoted to her and gently pressed her lower back, pushing her away, to he who needed her the most.

They exchanged only a look, before she caught Thor’s attention with a gentle confirmation of her Prince’s words:

“I must agree. I, myself, have no clear view of the situation. Impartial judgment will not come from us, Earthlings. Maybe could it find its way through the skillful hands of the Asgardian Justice, or maybe would it be safer if we relied on the superior forces that watch over us. The ultimate choice is indeed yours, King Thor. I trust your innate sense of justice in these difficult circumstances”, she softly completed her intervention, hands nesting on the front folds of her gown, only showing their nervousness in the light trembling of the delicate fabric.

Maybe she could have displayed it more evidently, in the obvious purpose of titillating the warmhearted King’s empathy – maybe she _should_ have. However, she remained still and straight as the proudest of marble statues – the ones that represented Justice, or Grace, or Courage, back in Midgard’s early days, somewhere near the Mediterranean sea.

And the tactic, if there even was one, proved itself indisputably effective.

Thor’s shoulders straightened, cutting the air in a perfect, square angle. His features hardened, and he shook away his own insecurity, with a light nod.

“Both parties have expressed equally convincing pleas, though very differently. I, Thor, King of Asgard, consider this case beyond the reach of my Justice. Therefore, I will place it into the unprejudiced hands of the Norns, no later than tomorrow, at dawn”, he declared, his voice loud and deep, as it echoed in the completely silent room.

Tony could not tell whether or not he should rejoice, despite Loptr clearly finding the King’s decision satisfactory. His attention flew to Falinn, whose expression still appeared unchanged, to his greatest disappointment – a reptile; it was the only word he could find to describe his terrifying lack of identifiable reaction.

“I am sorry you are to be put through this unfortunate situation, dear guests”, he simply sighed, with a light bow to Tony and Pepper. “My King, I will do as you say. Shall I retire now, as it is recommended by the sacred texts?”

“You will, Counsellor Falinn”, Thor agreed, in a somewhat clumsy attempt to imitate his magistrate’s placidity. “Complainant Loptr and his associate, Heilari, will do equally, in the opposite chapel, as demand the said laws.”

“Let us not forget Defendant Thjazi, of Jötunheim, my King”, Loptr observed with a very, very furtive grin. “I gather my uncle planned on traveling to Asgard tomorrow, did he not?” he calmly asked Falinn, facing him eye-to-eye, causing the old man to tilt his head, almost imperceptibly, and Tony to shiver in apprehension.

“He did, yes”, the defendant answered, however, his voice still as plain as the Dead Sea. “Maybe we should make him aware of our- change of plans, indeed. A simple message will do no harm, as it will give him time to retire in his own night of prayers, within the walls of Utgard’s Grand Sanctuary.”

“Thus allowing him to join us directly on the Thundery Hills, at sunrise”, Loptr concluded, peacefully, as his confounded guards looked at each other with deep uncertainty. For a mere madman, this little blue slave sure seemed to know how to host a debate.

Their grasp on him tightened, nevertheless, when, with an impatient movement of the head, Thor agreed to the strange yet logical settlement and turned his gaze to them.

“You will accompany Complainant Loptr and Witness Heilari, now. Give them the northern Chamber of Prayers. You”, he continued, looking at another set of bewildered soldiers, “will escort Defendant Falinn to the southern chapel, as you will greet Defendant Thjazi, tomorrow, when the Bifröst will bring him to us, near the Sacred Site.”

“Yes, Your Majesty”, they immediately accepted – one, unique, dull voice.

Tony winced. There was something deeply unpleasant in the way they obeyed. If all this were to go terribly wrong… He, or anyone else, really, could do very little, against such an army of- zombies.

As the militia around Loptr started moving, he felt the painful urge to touch him, one more time – maybe one _last_ time, he now realized, with utter horror.

But his lover kept him afar, with just one look. A look of both determination and sacrifice – a look that sent a scared quiver down his spine, and struck him like a blow to the face, nailing him in situ.

_This isn’t a game, this isn’t funny, what are you playing at?_

Of the words he wished he could scream, he could only express the confused and frightened core, as he helplessly watched him being carried along the endless banquet table, towards Thor’s throne, for an ultimate regal approval, he supposed. Falinn was already gone, as quietly, as slyly as ever. Heilari awaited, near the door, as silent as death.

“Well, cheer up, my lords and ladies”, Loptr called out, at everybody’s utter surprise – some of the taller and stronger men in the quiet audience startled at the sound of the Jötun’s firm voice. “Nothing here is to change the way you pass through your lives, is it? The sun will rise and set on you as it always did, and your children will run in the rich meadows of Asgard, just like they did today, and yesterday, and the day before. You should not waste the wine in your cups or the laughs in your throats for me. Whatever happens, I am only a passerby, remember so”, he smiled at them, leading their hoarse voices to dawn again in the mute hall, in murmurs of confusion and opposite opinions.

As baffled as his folk, Thor stared at his former servant with both shock and remorse.

He did expect Loptr’s smile to fall down as soon as he would lay his eyes on him.

Nonetheless, he did not await the words he formulated, in a mere murmur, when he passed by his throne:

“ _Take a chance on me.”_

The young King could only give him a bewildered look, as the dark-haired captive glanced, incomprehensibly, to the beautifully chiseled but still lifeless hammer which Thor had left near his chair. Mjölnir, his traditional regal attribute, gave no further answers to the puzzled Asgardian – and, already, Loptr and his guards were gone.


	26. The King's Journey

“ _What the fuck was that about?_ ” were the words Tony achieved to mutter, in a scarcely controlled explosion of chaotic anguish.

In the private chambers of the King, far away from both Loptr and Falinn, he, Thor and Pepper had only just managed to reunite, as the Asgardian leader had encountered quite a few difficulties in his attempts to send his guests away. Questions had been asked, concerns had been expressed, and Thor only had had the usual and unconvincing promises to offer back, as he, himself, remained staggered in the face of his former slave’s improbable request.

“I know not, my friend”, he whispered, tiredly, as he heavily fell onto the rim of his bed, fingers pinching the edge of his nose.

“And why would he come to _you_ for help, huh?” the Human bitterly growled, his legs scissoring the air restlessly, as he walked through the vast room, exploring its every corner with rising agitation.

“Tony”, Pepper reprimanded him, her delicate fingers closing onto his arm to stop him in his track, and force him on the sofa she had taken place into.

“No, you don’t get it”, the Midgardian groaned in a vivid shake of the head. “ _I_ don’t hate him, okay, but _he_ does. Loptr does. Doesn’t he?”

“How would I know?” she wearily whispered. “A man can change. And even if you’re right… He _is_ wise enough to know where lies his only chance to win this fight. I’m inclined to trust him, Tony. He seemed to know what he was doing.”

“I cannot understand in what way _I_ could be his better chance to defeat Falinn”, Thor protested, head buried between his hands and eyes fixed on a still very immobile and mute Mjölnir. “Or how I could prove Falinn is lying and Loptr – Loki – is not, for that matter.”

“Don’t tell me you truly doubt him”, Tony hissed.

“You did too, Anthony”, the King sharply retorted, as a spring of his heel brought him back on his feet.

“I didn’t.”

“Denying our own confusion won’t help us, nor him, Tony”, the Duchess wearily observed. “We need to work together. Loptr said those things for a purpose – he surely did. We simply ought to understand...”

“Simply? _Simply_? We have one night, Pepper. One, sole, freaking night. Tomorrow morning...”

“Tomorrow morning, you believe you will witness no sign of our Gods”, Thor intervened, from the window next to which he had hoped to find some peace, or at least some fresh air. “Do you not?” he murmured as he turned back to the two silent Humans, his whitening knuckles pressing hard against the shaft of his hammer, with the ridiculous expectation of a sudden revelation.

“I’ve never believed in omnipresent entities”, Tony ultimately answered, after ten long, silent seconds. “Even you guys, with your magic bridge and flying tools – You’re just like us. If even _you_ can’t avoid such abominable situations, situations like this one… I see very little hope that there’s someone, out there, who can”, he concluded, as calmly as possible, encouraged in this avenue by Pepper’s light, approving nod.

“I must agree, King Thor”, she swished with an apologetic wince. “We mean no disrespect to your beliefs, but-”

“Nay”, the Aesir stopped her, as he swiftly pulled the red curtains and came back to them. “You are right. I myself never observed any form of apparition, or manifestation of some sort – neither did my father, and his father before him. My lineage may be filled with flaws, but I can safely say we have grown into a somewhat lucid family”, he faintly smiled, while establishing himself in the wide armchair that faced the Humans’ sitting place. “I do wish I had as much faith as Loptr seems to possess, though”, he added in an pensive murmur.

“He has faith in you”, Pepper noted. “He asked you to have faith in him, at least.”

“ _Take a chance on me_ … What did he mean?” Tony asked anew, hands pulling at his dark curls.

“Didn’t he say anything else?” the Duchess inquired. “Maybe he made a sign, something?”

Under their interrogative eyes, the King slowly moved his head from left to right. In his wide hands, Mjölnir danced and swirled, a mere relaxing toy offered to his tense body.

“No…”

“But it _had to_ mean something. He knew the laws _by heart_ , he _smiled_ when you validated his plea- He never would’ve asked for this if it didn’t mean he could win”, Tony objected with desperate passion.

“I am sorry, I have no answers, not for now”, Thor edgily replied, as he jumped yet again to his feet and flew to the door, opening it wide with a chilling draught. “We should get some rest. There is no efficiency in exhaustion. Trust me. I may be a very poor King, but I am an experimented soldier. I will meet you in five hours, and we will think anew”, he offered, as the Prince blushed with outrage.

“We’re not wasting five hours! If you think-”

“There’s no waste in giving ourselves a break, Tony”, Pepper countered, with an inquisitive glance to the disturbed King, as she softly pushed her friend away. “Heilari left us with some decoctions of his, I’m sure we’ll find something that’ll help us- regenerate faster and reflect better. Right?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re on Falinn’s side”, Tony grunted, emerging from her grip with aggressive irritation.

“ _Anthony of Midgard_ ”, the powerful voice of the King thundered over his head, leading both Humans to freeze in surprise, “you will withdraw those insulting words and leave my presence, _now._ ”

“Tony”, Pepper nervously mouthed, when the shocked Prince stepped to the blond colossus, chin up and eyes burning with dark determination.

“Now”, Thor stated anew, his tempestuous irises reflecting the strangest of lights – a white, bluish radiance, that most certainly could not come from the prevailing, warm candlelight.

The Human frowned, and his lips split up, just before his gaze fell on the King’s clenching hands.

What he saw, however surreal, maybe hallucinatory, achieved to ease his belligerent desires, for the time being.

“Yeah”, he simply muttered, as his teeth clicked back together. “C’mon, Pepper. Let’s see what kind of drugs our old friend gifted us”, he added with pretended lightness, his arm clinging to hers, pulling her away from the impossible vision she just had witnessed herself.

“Tony”, Thor heard her say, before he closed the door on them.

***

Silence was all there was to hear in the vast, dusty archives, when the tall silhouette of a golden haired man pierced the near total obscurity.

Witnesses of Asgard’s History – a glorious one, they all said –, millions of books and scrolls awaited curious readers, which, commonly, never came

This night seemed quite the exception. One could have almost felt a quiver of excitation run through the forgotten shelves, as the tormented breathing and seeking hands of their confused King dared to caress them, for the first time in, oh, a few hundred years, maybe?

And as those two feverish eyes indecently leafed through the most obscure legends, a new light emerged from oblivion – a cold, striking illumination.

***

When thunder growled and lightning fired down the mountains, just two or three hours before dawn, all of Asgard whispered with dread:

“The Gods are angry.”

The two lonely Humans, awakened from their artificial sleep, felt the glacial grip of fear and disbelief onto their hearts, as they observed the impossible furor of the sky storm around the Hills – _the_ Hills.

Rushing to the King’s apartments just a few minutes later, they found him wrapped in his crimson sheets, but very far from asleep. There was a glow, in his icy irises, that no one, not even him, apparently, had beheld before.

“What’s happening?” they asked, fearfully.

“I believe the Norns are now aware that we are to visit them soon”, he answered, after a brief instant of muteness. “All is left for us to do is to bring defendants and complainants to the Hills, when the sun rises.”

And he looked at them with such deep, serious certitude, they almost felt the urge to indulge in his illogical statement.

“That’s it, he’s gone mad”, Tony whispered, once his vocal chords were restored to a decent level of functionality.

“I only now came back to sanity, Anthony”, the King denied with a vivid shake of the head. “Please. Do trust me. Loptr demanded Justice, and Justice shall be served. I promise.”

“Wh- What? Wait! What do you know? What aren’t you telling us? Thor! Thor!” Tony found himself yelling at a closed door. “ _Fuck_!” he cursed, as his foot furiously ran into the heavy, wooden panel. “ _Fuck_!”

“Tony”, Pepper desperately tried to appease him, as he infuriately rammed into the door, again and again, vainly. “Tony, stop”, she begged, both hands clasping his wrists in a dolorous attempt to lead him away from the unresponsive object. “He must know what he’s doing- Tony!”

“THEN WHY WON’T HE TELL US?!” the Prince raged as he brutally freed himself from her embrace.

A light cry escaped her whitening lips, as she lost her balance and fell to the marble ground. Tony’s congested features relaxed in immediate remorse. He dropped on his knees, one hand anxiously running through his disheveled hair, the other hesitantly stretching towards hers.

“I’m sorry”, he mouthed, as his eyes filled with powerless tears.

“Are you?” she retorted, harshly, before her tense figure melted with desolated comprehension. “I know you are”, she quietly resumed, as she allowed him to pull her back on her feet. “As I know Thor won’t fail us. Take a chance on him”, she gently recommended.

“We’re all taking chances, these days, aren’t we?” he gloomily observed, eyes down and hands shaking, still.

“I’m afraid we have no other choice. Come… The sun will rise soon; we should be ready.”

“But he-”

“Come, Tony”, she insisted, delicately yet firmly pushing him away.

And come he did, with a last glance to the mute chambers, shoulders collapsing in resignation.


	27. The Eye of the Storm

 

Dawn came no faster than it had the day before, nor slower than it would the day after. Inexorably, with no pity or cruelty for the mere mortals that fretfully awaited it, the solar globe extended its rosy beams to the foggy horizon. As its blinding disk scarcely began to appear behind the high mountains, both Prince and Duchess were already standing at the Citadel’s borders. Two guards prudently supervised their anxious wait, for a whole, agonizing minute, before the regulated march of a small group broke the everlasting silence of this way too peaceful morning. Tony straightened, Pepper forced herself not to look behind, though she knew fairly well who she would find.

“Good morning, King Thor”, said the serene voice of Loptr, sending an instantaneous chill down Tony’s spine, as the red flow of the Asgardian’s cape appeared in his field of view.

“Greetings to you all”, the monarch simply answered, with a tone and a face so composed, the Human Prince failed to believe it really was him who had looked right through his soul, with such a mad, electric gaze, just a few hours earlier.

The sovereign took five steps, moving off the compact group and coating them with a long, pensive glance.

“Prince Anthony, Duchess Virginia, Representatives of Midgard, you have expressed the rightful wish to attend today’s Trial. You will be offered this opportunity, though it will be asked from you to remain quiet, and not intervene. I present to you my personal guard, as well as Priests Pytïv, Ygir and Thram. My soldiers will escort you to the Hills, to which you will travel through the Sacred Bridge – the Bifröst. The magistrates, whom I have chosen for their high knowledge of the spiritual matters of our Realm, will direct the Rituals, during which Complainant Loptr will expose his grievances, Witness Heilari will support his sayings, and Defendants Falinn and Thjazi – who will join you shortly – will present their own arguments. Following this part of the Trial, our Makers will give Justice to whom deserves it. I, myself, will not accompany you, today. My authority is, indeed, only a grain of sand, before the Norns’ impartial eyes. In respect of their judgment, I will remain well away from this affair, and will only join you once the verdict is given”, he concluded in a solemn nod.

Speechless, Tony felt a renewed anguish compress his chest, as he exchanged a concerned expression with Pepper, and took an infinitesimal look behind him, only now meeting his lover’s glowing eyes.

Loptr blinked, for a split instant, and the Prince swore he had perceived a reassuring wink. Though it failed quite miserably to comfort him, it had the slight merit to distract him from the dizzying sensation that suddenly filled his entire body, as the devilishly unpredictable Bifröst grabbed him by the stomach and tossed him vigorously on a rocky ground he could only guess to be their final destination.

“ _Goddammit_ ”, he heard himself swear, loudly, just before an insistent shush forced him to silence.

“The Thundery Hills tolerate no cries other than the ones of the dying convicts”, Priest Thram promptly explained, as he helped both Humans to rise again.

“Oh, how aesthetically sensitive of them”, he muttered with a grim grin, as he lifted his eyes up, cautiously observing this new, obscure environment.

At first sight, there was not much to it, really. A rough circle surrounded them all, formed with large, dark, barely carved rocks. The skies above were gray and cloudy, but no more than on any regular, gray, cloudy day.

One tiny little fact did catch the small audience’s attention, though.

On the stony soil, calcined black scars seemed to mark the places where the “godly fires” had rained down on the guilty men of yesteryear.

Loptr bit his inner lip, a gesture only for Tony to notice. The Human himself frowned in partial incredulity.

 

And Falinn flinched. Oh, so very subtly – none of them had the time to notice it.

 

There was an eye, however, up above, a piercing, attentive eye, that recorded the defendant’s every last reaction.

 

As this particular eye noted the magistrate’s light tic, the Bifröst opened anew. Soon, its vivid light slowly faded away, revealing the tall and stiff silhouette of a blue-skinned man, whose face was as closed as an oyster and whose attires showed a dignity his posture however failed to convey.

The Humans shivered in apprehension, as Thjazi’s bloody gaze met his supposed nephew’s cold, yet clearly hateful eyes. Tony blindly looked for Pepper’s hand, onto which he hung, desperately.

As Loptr disdained to salute the second defendant, the latter sought a glance from Falinn, whose polite smile answered him, briefly, with a courteous bow of the neck.

 

Out there, the hidden eye creased. Its acute surveillance caught a light stiffening in the Regent’s sharp face, as he too, for the first time, perceived the burning streaks that labeled the ground.

 

“My Sires, Milady”, Priest Pytïv then proceeded to whisper, seeming quite uninterested in the ever so concrete details that surrounded him, “we will now commence. Complainant Loptr, otherwise known as Loki, please step into the Judgment Arena, and state your accusations”, he patiently demanded, hands parted and turned to the stormy skies.

 

As Loptr voluntarily complied, the secret observer narrowed his attention to both the complainant and the two defendants. Silent and still, Falinn kept a light, confident smile. Thjazi obviously tried to imitate him, hands clasped behind his back, spine straight and chin arrogantly pointing out. They both remained silent, seemingly respectful of the Rituals, even of their adversary. When Loptr withdrew and Heilari took his place, a spark of pity animated the Counsellor’s eye, as a complete void appeared to freeze the Regent’s sight in time.

 

When came the time for the defendants to chose a spokesman, Thjazi automatically turned to Falinn, as the latter had already begun to reach the center of the rocky disk.

 

Explanations were given, serenely, with a conviction that probably would have persuaded a panel made only from cerebral, rational men.

 

Rational, the silent spy was not – nor now, nor ever.

And yet he hesitated, lengthily.

 

“The Norns will now deliberate, and decide”, Priest Ygir declaimed, as Thor’s personal militia prudently stepped back, leaving Loptr, Heilari, Falinn and Thjazi at four opposite points of the circle, alone. “May our Makers have mercy on the innocent and give fair punishment to their opponent”, he prayed, while his comrades encouraged the Humans to back away, as far as possible.

 

The invisible judge heard, yet the invisible judge remained motionless, and the invisible judge argued only with himself.

His heart echoed the ones he could imagine pounding into the chests of the four, immobile men.

As he waited, and waited, eye floating from a face to the other, a growling storm gathered up, low in his abdomen, and high in the air.

 

Down under, in the awaiting sight of the unknowing mortals, the turmoil seemed a dangerous promise, as the clouds darkened and the wind blew, carrying howls and groans, that, suddenly, revealed the drumbeat of a wandering thunder. In the dim mist, the chilling blue of distant lightning bolts dispersed itself.

 

And the careful eye of the Judge met a burgeoning panic, under the mask of one Frost Giant – one with no burn marks, one with regal clothes and white knuckles.

His heart raced with soaring certitude.

Yet he waited, still.

 

Thunder sent a trembling moan down the mountains’ flanks. Skies cracked open, casting a glacial deluge on the gloomy scene.

Light and sound grew closer and closer. A vein of dazzling white spread the clouds and crashed on the nearest hill, dismantling a colossal stone, of which the shattered remains rolled down the dark void of a cliff.

 

One man screamed. And he ran.

 

Mjölnir shook Thor’s concealed body to the core, as the King called the fire of the skies on the fleeing Regent.

One blow, one fall. And the Giant was dead.

Pepper brought both hands to her mouth, barely muffling a gasp of horror, as Tony stared helplessly at the eye of the hurricane, which poured its still dissatisfied rage upon their heads, in a flood of cold, abrasive rain.

 

“ _I did not know!”_ Falinn suddenly screamed to the Gods in whom he had never believed, while his now useless facade melted off, leaving only the crooked traits of a terrified monster, hooking on his ultimate lie like a venomous snake biting at his own tail. “ _I did not know, he betrayed me, I did not know!_ ”

 

Thor winced in disgust. As he looked away, burying himself deeper in his hideout, Mjölnir ordered one last blow.

 

When the storm began to clear, two fuming, deformed bodies scarred the floor, and the whispered prayers of the shocked crowd met the screams of incredulous relief that escaped Tony’s lips, as he, finally, ran to his lover, Prince Loptr, reestablished Heir of Jötunheim.

 

Only a few minutes later, Thor innocently appeared on the still electrified site.

As he efficiently pretended to only just now learn the outcome of the Trial, the Jötun Prince laid an insisting eye on him, while still pressing his Human against his sore chest, fingers running through his hair, lips kissing the top of his head.

_Thank you_ , he ultimately formulated, in silence, when Thor caught his mute call.

The King nodded, ever so slightly. As Heilari conjured perfectly sealed coffins around the dead bodies of the traitors, he brought his fist to his heart, and bowed, gently, to his new ally.

_Let us make it worthwhile_ , they thought, together, when the Bifröst wrapped its colorful hands around them all, for once carrying them with gentle care, right to the awaiting Citadel.


	28. Epilogue

“He did not deserve this”, Loptr whispered, and the icy walls resonated with both pain and anger.

The red of his eyes grew darker, as he laid a gentle hand on the stone cold forehead of the young man Thjazi had had killed to play his part, as a forever exposed corpse, in the glacial cathedral where the people of Jötunheim still came in faithful pilgrimages, to mourn their lost Prince.

The lifeless, beautiful features of the victim looked shockingly identical to Loptr’s very own traits. Closing his free hand into a tight fist, the Prince allowed his delicate magic to run through the poor man’s body. He could not bring him back, no, but he _could_ free him from the disgraceful illusion his flesh had been imprisoned into.

The face of a Jötun even younger than him appeared under the shattered glamor. Loptr shivered in horror. Tony looked away, whilst reaching out to press his lover’s hand in his own.

“None of them deserved this”, he mouthed, dolorously, as Loptr conjured a dark, silky sheet, to cover the poor soul’s now liberated skin.

Wrapped in a whole set of furs, Tony could have looked quite humorous, if the circumstances had been drastically different. A bundle of clumsy humanity, lost in the snowy immensities of Jötunheim.

“You’re here, now”, he pursued in a murmur, as his companion remained silent. “You’re back. You’ll make things better. We’ll help you”, he promised, quietly, as he shuffled closer and tip-toed to lay a kiss on Loptr’s hallow cheek.

The beginning of a smile appeared on his lover’s lips, as he turned to him, then to the grieving figures of Thor, Pepper, and Heilari.

In a nod, he led them out of the silent chapel.

 

“Every single Asgardian who once unfairly hurt your people, in any way, will be punished”, the Asgardian King stated, fingers clenching on Mjölnir, his voice and eyes filled with the radiant energy that had never left him, since the old legends, of a hammer who could summon the anger of the sky, had found their truth within his newly acquired worthiness. “The times ahead are still times of pain and blood, but they _will_ end. And once they do, I will ensure they never come again. Not on my watch”, he strongly concluded, as his free hand stretched out towards the two Princes.

A hand which they held, gladly, one after the other, and a hand Pepper winged gently, under the old and knowing eyes of the ever so silent Heilari.

“So… Duchess Virginia”, Tony smiled, lightly, tough a faint touch of regret tinted his tone. “I suppose this is farewell?”

“It is _see you soon_ , Prince Anthony”, she softly replied. “Our three worlds do form an alliance, now, after all. Lots of meetings are to be held. I’ll make sure King Thor doesn’t allow you to stay away for too long. You won’t escape the boring discussions”, she specified with a brief laugh.

“Careful, friend, she can be hellish”, Tony warned Thor with a pretended wince, just before the Duchess wrapped her arms around him, gladly eluding his taunting to hug all dubious humor out of him.

“Good luck, my King”, she whispered at his ear.

And, with a furtive kiss on the jaw, she was gone.

When the Bifröst closed on her and Thor, the Human sighed, deeply.

“King…”

“You will do greatly”, Loptr reassured him, sweetly.

“I’d better. He’s got thunder in a hammer, you’ve got magic...”

“And you have got the infuriating curiosity that brought us all where we are, at the dawn of a new, flourishing era”, the Prince cut him off, cupping his face with his glacial hands. “Dare forget this, and I will-”

“Shush, not in front of my new Prime Minister, love”, the Midgardian grinned, with a lateral look to Heilari. “Can you free my cheeks, now? I think I’ll need them, at least for my investiture speech.”

“I could almost believe I will not miss you, when you speak to me in such terms.”

“Almost.”

“Yes- Almost.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can stay a bit longer, if-”

“I will be fine. I know whom I can trust, here- An upside to the centuries of lies and treasons I have witnessed. Besides, Thor has granted me the services of Heimdall. I risk nothing. And if I should feel lonely, well, you do have a traveling machine, do you not?”

“Not quite yet. But I’m pretty sure I have some free Bifröst trips on my passport”, he jested, just as Heimdall opened the bridge, a few steps away.

“Ah”, the Giant sighed, tangling their arms and slowly, leisurely accompanying his partner towards his way home. “This is no goodbye, then.”

“I’ll still miss you.”

“So will I”, the Jötun pouted, softly, before he took out a small, sharp knife, and cut out a long strand of his dark, shiny curls.

“What’s that about?” Tony stammered in stupefaction, as his partner swiftly braided the trimmed hair and handed it to him.

“A present, for the King of the New State of York.”

“A- But- What? Why?”

“Well”, Loptr smiled, maliciously, as he pushed his lover into the iridescent portal, “it is a matter of Jötun custom, that a man should initiate courtship by offering a piece of himself.”

 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, friends! A journey ends, both for our beloved characters and myself. Ten months of writing, lots of help from Linguee and tons of inspiring music brought me right here, as I'm wrapping up the longest story I've ever written. More than that, it's the first full story I've written entirely in the language of Shakespeare, and though I certainly allowed silly mistakes in, sometimes, I'm quite proud of the result. I do hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Your comments and gentle cheers kept me going, even at times where inspiration and motivation slyly slipped away from my fingers. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3 We'll meet again!  
> Panda


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